


Elements of Power

by Enginerd826



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Magic, Powerful Harry, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22174441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enginerd826/pseuds/Enginerd826
Summary: AU of books 1-7. To wield the power the Dark Lord knows not, Harry must first learn what magic truly is. There's something special about Harry, but he'll need the help of his friends to discover his full potential. Won't be Super!Harry, but he will be powerful by the end, on par with the other heavy hitters in the HP universe. Rating for violence in later chapters
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

This is my first fan fic so please bear with me. I love the Harry Potter universe, I grew up with the books and they’re literally how I learned how to read. But there are several things in the books that I think could have been done better or could have made more sense. This is my attempt to correct those things. I only discovered the world of HP fan fiction earlier this year but have been totally enamored since. Over the past few months this story has started banging around inside of my head, so I finally decided to give writing a try. There will probably be elements in this story that are similar to other fics, but the overall story is something that I have devised. If any ideas come directly from other stories I will try to credit those whenever I can (and feel free to point any of those out to me as well!). Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, I truly hope you enjoy! Will start fairly similar to canon, but will diverge more greatly over time. Please read and review! Bolded text below comes directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling

***

**“Get the mail, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.**

**“Make Harry get it.”**

**“Get the mail, boy.”**

**“Make Dudley get it.”**

**“Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley.”**

Sighing, Harry Potter rose from his place at the kitchen table and went to retrieve the mail from the front door. As he approached, though he heard a stern knock at the door. Opening it, he saw a tall, black-haired woman looking at him with a curious, almost appraising expression on her face.

“Er, hello,” Harry murmured tentatively.

“Hello, Mr. Potter, I presume?” asked the severe looking woman.

“Er…yes, but how did you…?” Harry wondered. Nobody at Privet Drive knew much about him, not even his name. His aunt and uncle had always referred to him as their nephew, when they were forced to refer to him at all. If they had their way nobody on Privet Drive would know about him at all.

“Well who is it, boy?” his uncle screamed from the kitchen, obviously torn between wanting to prevent anyone _respectable_ from interacting with his nephew and his own laziness.

“It’s, uh…” Harry started.

“Minerva McGonagall,” the tall woman stated, holding out her hand to Harry, “I’m a professor at a school which would very much like to recruit you.” Harry stared. Of all the things he had been expecting to hear from this woman, this was probably among the least likely. Slowly, he came to his senses and tentatively grasped her hand, shaking it.

“Re-recruit me?” he stammered. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Perhaps,” she said, dryly, “it would be better to discuss this inside with your aunt and uncle present. Might I come in?”

As Harry stepped back wordlessly to allow Miss ‘ _No, professor!’_ he thought, in to the house he heard from behind him the heavy footfalls that signaled that his uncle’s need to put a stop to whatever foolishness Harry was getting up to had finally overcome his own laziness. As he came around the corner in the front hall Uncle Vernon paused and asked in a quiet tone that Harry knew all too well to be actually threatening underneath the façade of politeness “Bo-Harry, who is this person who you’ve let into my home?”

“Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, pleased to meet you, Mr. Dursley,” said the woman in a tone that indicated that she was anything but pleased to meet Mr. Dursley. “I’ve come to recruit young Mr. Potter here to attend this Fall, and answer any questions you and Mrs. Dursley may have.” The effect this short introduction had on his uncle was truly astounding as Harry watched Uncle Vernon’s face immediately pale, turning ghost white before, just as quickly, skipping right passed red and turning a deep purple with anger.

His voice shaking with rage, Uncle Vernon finally managed to get out the words “he’ll not be going.” Harry, expecting this, was surprised to find that he was still disappointed with his uncle’s decision. Of course, this had been too good to be true. The idea that his aunt and uncle would allow Harry to do anything that he wanted to do was actually laughable. Why he wanted this he wasn’t actually sure. All he knew was that there was some school with a strange name that wanted him to attend. Although, he supposed, it was the first time he’d ever been wanted anywhere, so maybe that had something to do with it.

Professor McGonagall, however, was having none of it. “Sir,” she began, icily, “Mr. Potter’s name here has been down to attend Hogwarts since the moment of his birth nearly eleven years ago. His tuition had already been paid by his parents, prior to their passing, and I think we both know that there are things that he can do which he _must_ learn to control, before he becomes a danger to himself, or those around him,” she said this last with a pointed look at Uncle Vernon.

While these words certainly had an effect on Uncle Vernon who appeared to still be struggling to come up with reasons to kick this woman out of his home, this was nothing to the impact they had on Harry. ‘ _A danger to myself or those around me?’_ he thought. _‘They were right all along, I really am a freak. But she said I could learn to control it!’_

“Er, Prof-Professor McGonagall, do you know what’s wrong with me?” Harry asked, with more than a hint of pleading in his voice.

“Wrong!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed a mix of emotions crossing the severe lines of her face. “Why, Mr. Potter, there is absolutely nothing ‘wrong’ with you whatsoever. You are, however, a wizard.”


	2. Chapter 2

Harry gaped at the severe looking woman. She certainly didn’t look the type to pull a practical joke, but maybe she was an actress, or she was herself a crazy person. Wizards weren’t real, everybody knew that. Uncle Vernon had certainly beaten _that_ lesson in to him, at the very least. But before Harry could utter a word against Professor McGonagall’s proclamation his Uncle Vernon barked a single word, face beet red, spittle flying, as he trembled with the effort.

“OUT!”

“Now then, Mr. Dursley, I hardly think that’s nec- “Professor McGonagall began.

“OUT!” Vernon Dursley barked again, veins pulsing and mustache trembling. Never before had Harry seen his uncle in such a rage, not even the time when Harry was 8 years old and while in the middle of a particularly fierce bout of screaming at Harry his uncle had suddenly found himself completely mute and unable to speak for a whole three days. That had earned Harry a few broken ribs, and he really didn’t want to see the result of his uncle’s current rage.

“YOU’RE JUST LIKE HE IS, A WEIRDO, AN ABNORMALITY, A STAIN ON THE HUMAN POPULATION. I WANT YOU TO TAKE THIS LITTLE _FREAK_ AND GET THE BLOODY HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE! I’LL NOT HAVE EITHER OF YOUR DARKENING MY DOORSTEP EVER AGAIN! OUT!” Uncle Vernon raged at the pair. Harry in particular had no desire to disobey in this instance so without a second look back he strode straight past Professor McGonagall and right out the front door of number four, Privet Drive, thoughts whirling with what had just happened.

‘ _Well I can’t come back here, at least not for a while, I’ll need to let Uncle Vernon cool off for a bit at the very least. But where can I go? Maybe Mrs. Figg will let me stay with her for a week or so. I could offer to do chores and watch her cats.’_ But before he could plan out too many of the particulars, Harry’s mind abruptly returned to Professor McGonagall and her completely ridiculous proclamation. ‘ _But is it ridiculous? What if it could be true?’_ he thought to himself.

Whirling around he saw Professor McGonagall stomping away from the front door of his relatives’ home with a murderous look on her face. As she turned to look at him, however, her expression shifted to one wholly unfamiliar to him. At least, it was an expression that had never been directed towards him before, one of kindness, but he also saw sadness in the deep lines of her face, and some other emotion he couldn’t quite identify. Hurrying up to him, Professor McGonagall spoke.

“Well, Mr. Potter, that certainly did not go as I had planned. We can’t speak more about what, and more importantly, _who_ , you are out here in the open though. I had planned on visiting one other family today, however, to introduce them and their daughter to the magical world. As it appears you will be learning everything completely fresh as they will, I would invite you to accompany me so that you may hear it at the same time. What do you think?”

Not really having a better plan at the moment, Harry simply nodded. He didn’t believe her, not yet, at least he didn’t _think_ he did. But more than anything else in his life, he desperately wanted to.

“Very well, I will just send off a quick message to Albus, that is, Headmaster Dumbledore, and see if he can’t make some arrangements for you for the remainder of the summer. I will certainly _not_ see you returned to those people,” Professor McGonagall stated bluntly. The venom in her tone at this last had Harry liking her already. With a quick look around to ensure there was nobody looking, Professor McGonagall pulled out a long, thin wooden stick, mumbled something under her breath, and shot off a bright silver blur which quickly disappeared into the bright July sunlight.

“Wha-what was that!?” Harry wondered in amazement.

“Magic,” Professor McGonagall said simply, with a wink. “Now, Mr. Potter, if you would take my hand I will apparate, that is, move us magically from this location to another, to our other prospective student’s home.” Still unsure of what he had just seen, but eager for more demonstrations magic, Harry quickly grabbed Professor McGonagall’s bony hand.

“This will feel somewhat uncomfortable, being your first time and all. But you will get used it once you learn to do this yourself,” she warned. “On three then, one, two, three,” and with a loud CRACK Harry’s world went dark as he felt like he was being squeezed through a rubber tube, gasping for air but unable to fill his lungs. Just when he thought he must be about to pass out, the world suddenly relit itself and Harry drew in big gulps of air, leaning over slightly nauseous.

“Very good, Mr. Potter. Many young wizards and witches are sick after their first apparition. And you are a good deal younger than most first timers,” Professor McGonagall said, with a clear look of approval in her eyes. “Well, take a moment to recover yourself and then we’ll head in.”

At this Harry looked up and realized that they were in a totally different place than they were just a moment ago. “Uh, Professor, where exactly are we?” Harry asked, still gasping from their recent ordeal. This certainly didn’t look like anywhere in Surrey to him.

“Oh, somewhere in Essex, I get all of these muggle towns mixed up,” Professor McGonagall replied, a hint of embarrassment coloring her tone.

_‘Essex! But that’s on the other side of London! We must have traveled nearly a hundred miles!’_ Harry thought in surprise. But then another question popped into his mind. “Muggle?” he asked.

“That’s what we call non-magical people, like your aunt and uncle,” Professor McGonagall replied. “The family we’re about to visit, the parents are muggles, but their daughter is witch, just as you are a wizard. While both of your parents were magical, your mother was also a muggle-born, as they’re typically called. Some may try to fill your head with nonsense about muggle-born inferiority, but they are just as magical as you or me, and oftentimes twice as motivated as those raised in our society. Some of the best students I’ve ever had to pleasure to teach have been muggle-born, your mother included,” she concluded.

Harry’s eyes widened. “You knew my mother?” he asked weakly.

“Yes, Mr. Potter, I knew Lily quite well, in fact. I was her head of house at Hogwarts. And I promise to tell you more about her, and your father too, but for now we have other matters to attend to. I will tell you this, however, both of your parents were exceptional people. They were both extremely talented and powerful, but more than that, they were kind, generous, and loving, especially towards you. You were their treasure, above all else, and it was my privilege to know them. And as their son, I will be expecting great things out of you too,” she finished with a small smile. “Now, if you’re ready, let’s go meet your potential classmate,” she said, some of the formality returning to her voice.

Quickly blinking away the moisture that had suddenly appeared in his eyes, Harry followed Professor McGonagall up the long walkway to the large stone house at the end of the drive.


	3. Chapter 3

As they walked up the drive, Harry took in the sights around him. They were approaching a large stone house with a well-kept lawn and garden on the side. Unlike the garden at the Dursley’s home, this one wasn’t perfect, and to him, looked all the more beautiful for it. Where the Dursley’s garden was kept with surgical precision, not a leaf out of line, this garden looked more natural, more real, like it was kept by people who simply enjoyed the act of gardening, rather than caring about how it looked to everybody else. Harry immediately decided he liked this approach much better than the more rigid methods his Aunt Petunia employed.

Reaching the front door, Professor McGonagall quickly turned to Harry and said “Mr. Potter, as I’m sure you’re aware, you’re being here is rather out of the ordinary. Do try to remain silent as this can be a very difficult conversation to have for some parents. Although once I open it up for questions, feel free to chime in with your own.”

At Harry’s quick nod, Professor McGonagall turned to the door and knocked sharply three times. After a brief pause a kind looking woman with curly brown hair and bright green eyes, not unlike Harry’s, opened the door, a smile still on her face from a joke she had been laughing at.

“Hello, what can I do for you?” she asked, eyes bright with curiosity as she took in the unexpected pair before her.

“Hello, Dr. Granger. I’m Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, pleased to meet you.” Unlike when speaking to Uncle Vernon, Professor McGonagall said this with real warmth. “We at Hogwarts are very interested in recruiting your Hermione, do you and your husband have some time to discuss her attendance?”

Looking shocked, and then a little worried, Mrs. Granger hesitated before saying “Yes, I suppose we do. Please come in.” Turning her head, she yelled into the other room “Dan! Can you and Hermione please join me in the sitting room? We have company!” Turning back to the pair she said “Please follow me, Professor McGonagall and Mr…?”

“Potter,” Harry supplied quickly, extending a hand “Harry Potter, ma’am, and please just call me Harry.”

“Harry, then,” Mrs. Granger said with small smile while shaking Harry’s hand. “And I’m Emma Granger, and please, enough with the Doctor title, it’s far too confusing with both Dan and I being Dr. Granger.”

Mrs. Granger lead Harry and Professor McGonagall to the left, through a short hallway, and into their sitting room. The room was a moderate size, with two armchairs and a couch facing a stone fireplace. It was obvious, however, that the main purpose of the room was for reading as the walls were covered in floor to ceiling book cases that were positively overflowing with books. Harry, who had never seen any of his relatives reading anything, except for Aunt Petunia’s gossip magazines, was astounded at the sheer number of books lining the walls.

More than this though, Harry’s eyes were drawn to the framed photographs throughout the room. It seemed that any space that wasn’t presently occupied by a book was instead filled with a photograph of Mrs. Granger, her husband, and a young girl with bushy brown hair and too-large front teeth. In each photo, the trio stood holding each other, beaming at the camera, joy evident in their faces. These weren’t the posed, fake smiles that Harry saw every day in the photos of his relatives at number four Privet Drive. These were the genuine smiles of three people very much enjoying themselves at the various locales of the photos.

As he was examining the photos, their two other subjects walked into the room. Mr. Granger was a tall man with short cut dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. He was in shape, and stood with the kind of perfect posture that only came from military training. Trailing in behind was his daughter, Hermione. She was her mother in miniature, excepting her bushier hair, and she had her father’s eyes. She looked at the two newcomers somewhat shyly, staying mostly behind her father.

“Dan, this is Professor McGonagall and this is Harry Potter. Professor McGonagall is interested in recruiting Hermione for her school,” she said, with a pointed look at her husband.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Granger,” Professor McGonagall said. And with a reassuring smile to Hermione “and you too, Ms. Granger.” While Professor McGonagall was speaking to Hermione, Harry noticed a look, an unspoken conversation, pass between Mr. and Mrs. Granger behind the Professor.

“Nice to meet you too, Professor. Can I get you anything to drink?” said Mr. Granger. He seemed like a nice enough man, but had an edge to his voice that Harry couldn’t quite identify.

“No, thank you, Mr. Granger,” said Professor McGonagall. “If I may, I’d like to right to the point and discuss your daughter’s attendance at Hogwarts.”

Gesturing towards the seats Mr. Granger said “By all means.”

Professor McGonagall sat in one of the arm chairs while the Granger family seated themselves on the sofa, looking somewhat tense, Hermione flanked by both of her parents. Harry took the remaining arm chair and looked at Professor McGonagall, eager to finally get a full explanation of what was going on and to hear about this Hogwarts at last.

“Mr. and Mrs. Granger, you have no doubt noticed odd things happening around your Hermione for some time now, probably since she was around six years old,” began Professor McGonagall. It wasn’t a question. “I am happy to be able to tell you I know precisely why these odd things have been occurring. Your Hermione, just like myself, is, in fact, a witch.”

At this, Mrs. Granger’s face paled and she wrapped an arm around Hermione’s tightly, as if daring Professor McGonagall to try and take her away. Mr. Granger’s face paled, but tightened. Hermione just looked perplexed.

“I assure you,” Professor McGonagall continued, “that there is nothing wrong with your daughter. The school I represent, Hogwarts, is a school of magic, dedicated to training young witches and wizards from all across Great Britain. With your consent, Hermione would be eligible to attend this fall and begin her magical education.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Mr. Granger, with a look of incredulity. “You don’t expect us to actually believe this tripe, do you? If you’re here to have our daughter committed to some kind of institution you can bloody well get the hell out of this house right now. Hermione isn’t going anywhere!”

With a calm expression, as if she’d heard this dozens of times before, Professor McGonagall slowly pulled her long wooden stick from her sleeve. She brandished it with a swish and flick and suddenly the coffee table was levitating in front of them all. With another quick movement the table began flying in small circles around their heads. Another movement and it changed into an orange tabby cat. After a quick yowl from the cat Professor McGonagall gave one final movement and the cat turned back into a coffee table and settled back into its original position.

The silence in the room was complete, Harry and all three of the Grangers sat in their seats with identical expressions of surprise. Hermione broke the silence first a whispered “I knew it.”

With a knowing smile Professor McGonagall continued, “I understand your concern, Mr. Granger, I do. But I assure you, magic is very real, and your daughter is capable of using it. We magicals hide ourselves and our world from non-magical people, muggles as we call them. Otherwise one of our groups always suffers some kind of persecution at the hands of the other. However, every so often non-magical parents like yourselves produce magical offspring and in these cases we reveal ourselves to these young witches and wizards and their immediate families so they can be trained in witchcraft and wizardry, both for their own safety and that those around them.”

“Say we do believe you,” began Mrs. Granger, “what would that mean for us and our Hermione?” She still hadn’t removed her arm from Hermione’s. Hermione herself was sitting on the edge of her seat, eyes wide and bright in anticipation for what Professor McGonagall would say next.

“It would mean, Mrs. Granger, that Hermione would begin with us at Hogwarts this fall, on the first of September. I would go with you, either later today or another time if you would like more time to discuss amongst yourselves, to Diagon Alley, a wizarding shopping center in London, to help you set up a bank account at Gringotts and purchase Hermione’s school supplies. Young Harry here will also be attending Hogwarts so he would accompany us if you would like to go today,” at the mention of Harry’s name Hermione quickly looked at him for the first time with an appraising look before turning her attention back Professor McGonagall.

“We’d need to get Hermione outfitted with her school robes and books, her cauldron and potions supplies, a telescope for astronomy, and, of course, her wand,” with this she held up her own wand for all in the room to see clearly. “The curriculum at Hogwarts lasts for seven years. The first two years are basic training in our fundamental courses, with elective courses becoming available to third years and above. In her fifth year, Hermione would sit her Ordinary Wizarding Level or O.W.L. exams, a set of basic certifications in her various courses. In courses that she does well in, she will be able to enroll in the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests or N.E.W.T.s, which are advanced certifications she would sit the exams for at the end of her seventh year. These certifications will impact the careers that Hermione would be eligible for. After her NEWTs, Hermione may do whatever she likes, she could find work in our world, attend university in yours, or even continue her education to achieve a Mastery in whatever topics interest her.”

Mr. Granger looked stonily at Professor McGonagall. “Professor, I think we need a few minutes to talk this over privately. Please, stay here, we’ll go into the other room. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Of course, Mr. Granger, take all the time you need,” smiled Professor McGonagall. The Grangers all stood up and walked out of the room. Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked wary, but Hermione was positively bouncing up and down with excited energy. Turning to Harry, Professor McGonagall asked “well, Harry, do you have any other questions while we wait?”

Mind buzzing with dozens of questions, Harry quickly asked the only one that really mattered. “Are you sure? That I’m a wizard, I mean. How do you know for sure that I’m like you?”

Sighing, Professor McGonagall gave Harry a sad smile. “This is a long story, but I believe we will have plenty of time while the Grangers discuss Hermione’s future. The short answer is yes, Harry, I am absolutely sure that you are indeed a wizard.” At this Harry released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “The fact of the matter, Harry, is that we know you are a wizard because of the night your parents died. Back in those days there was a dark wizard, the darkest our world has ever known. So great was the terror that he inspired that most wizards and witches were too frightened to even speak his name, most of us still are. To most he was known as He-who-must-not-be-named, or simply as You-know-who, but the name he went by was Lord Voldemort.” Her voice trembled a bit as she spoke the name. “For reasons that are unclear, He-who-must-not-be-named was after your parents and the three of you went into hiding. You lived that way for the first year of your life. Then, on Halloween of 1981, a few months after your first birthday, he found you. The protections on your home failed and he attacked. Both of your parents died, and then he turned his attention on you. Exactly what happened is still unknown, but when he tried to kill you there was some kind of burst of magical energy and his curse rebounded. Your house was destroyed and you were left with that scar on your forehead. Many believe he’s dead, but no body was found in the wreckage of your home, and Professor Dumbledore thinks he’s still out there, and I tend to believe Professor Dumbledore in such matters.”

Quickly drying his eyes, Harry asked “and you don’t know why he was after my parents?”

“I’m afraid we don’t, Harry,” Professor McGonagall replied, “He-who-must-not-be-named was a madman. Very powerful, but mad. I’m sure he had his reasons, but as far as I know, nobody has been able to divine them. After the explosion at your home we retrieved you and Professor Dumbledore decided that your relatives’ home would be the safest place for you. I didn’t agree, but he was most insistent on this matter,” she finished with a huff.

“I see,” Harry replied simply, mind racing. He didn’t know what else to say. This was a lot to take in. “So what happens now?” he asked.

“Now, we wait to see what the Grangers decide. Either way, you and I will be heading to Diagon Alley next to visit your vault at Gringotts and then purchase your school supplies. By then I expect we’ll hear from Professor Dumbledore and we’ll be able to decide where you’ll be spending the remainder of the summer. I will NOT have you go back to the Dursleys’, no matter what Professor Dumbledore says,” she said fiercely.

Harry simply nodded. As he did the Grangers filed back into the room, Mr. and Mrs. Granger looking reserved but hopeful, and Hermione, beaming, asked Professor McGonagall “well, Professor, when can we leave?”


	4. Chapter 4

Smiling with real warmth, Professor McGonagall replied “why, we can leave immediately, Ms. Granger.” Turning her attention to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Professor McGonagall continued “I assume this means you have decided to allow your daughter to attend Hogwarts?”

“I’m afraid her mind was decided well before our family discussion,” Mr. Granger shrugged ruefully. “There’s not much that can change our Hermione’s mind once it’s made up like that. Besides, this magic is a part of her, we can’t deny that. Odd things have been happening around her for years. Not since she was six, like you said, but since she was four years old. We honestly weren’t sure what to do about it as the frequency’s been increasing the last year or two. Your explanation at least makes me and Em not feel so crazy about what’s been going on,” he finished happily.

“Hermione’s the most important thing in our lives,” continued Mrs. Granger. “We’ve had to skirt around the issue when we bring her to the physicians for fear of them trying to take her away from us. Your explanation, as crazy and outlandish as it is, actually makes the most sense out of everything we’ve been able to come up with.”

“Unfortunately, this is a conversation I’ve had many times, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Muggle parents like yourselves are always a bit lost when they have a magical child. Typically, these conversations go one of two ways, in my experience. Either the parents are relieved, as you are, and happy to accept this new facet of their child, or they grow fearful and sometimes even turn against their own child. I’m afraid in these situations more often then not I am forced to remove the memory of these conversations from all those involved and the child grows up as a muggle, unaware of the potential that lies inside of them, and often ostracized by their peers due to the bouts of oddness that occur around them,” Professor McGonagall finished, eyes glistening.

“How horrible!” exclaimed Mrs. Granger. All three Grangers looked horrified at this announcement. “We could never turn our backs on our Hermione like that. As Dan said, this is a part of her and it was decided long ago that we would love her unconditionally, all of her.”

Harry was baffled by this proclamation. He couldn’t imagine adults being this devoted to their children. In his experience, love and consideration was something that was given to and taken from children; something that some were worthy of and others were not. He had never questioned whether or not the Dursleys had loved him, there was no question about it, they certainly didn’t. This unwavering and complete love the Grangers displayed towards their daughter, even despite this surely unwelcome news, was an entirely new concept to Harry.

Harry was broken out of his reflections as Mrs. Granger went on, “Well let’s get going, shall we? Come to think of it, how did the two of you get here? I didn’t see a car parked out front.”

“Magic,” Professor McGonagall replied simply.

“Ah, well I think Dan and I would prefer to travel by more mundane means to this Diagon Alley you mentioned. In that case, you two are welcome to ride with us of course. Shall we?”

“That would be lovely,” replied Professor McGonagall.

Harry, Professor McGonagall, and the three Grangers all filed out of the house towards the silver BMW SUV parked in the drive. Mr. Granger took the driver’s seat but Mrs. Granger insisted Professor McGonagall take the passenger seat, both for her own comfort and to direct Mr. Granger on the best way to get to Diagon Alley, while she sat in the back with the children. After a few moments they were on their way to London proper under the careful direction of Professor McGonagall.

Turning to Harry in the back seat, Mrs. Granger asked kindly “so, Harry, how is it that you came to be joining us on this adventure? Are your parents non-magical, like Dan and I?”

“Oh, er, well, no. I live with my aunt, uncle and cousin. My parents were magical, but they died when I was baby. My relatives now are non-magical though and when Professor McGonagall came to visit and explain my magic to them, they had the other reaction Professor McGonagall mentioned,” he replied, not quite meeting Mrs. Granger’s eyes.

“Mr. Potter has rather special circumstances,” Professor McGonagall interjected from the front seat. “It would not have been appropriate to wipe his or his relatives’ memory in this case, especially as they are not his parents and the legality of their guardianship is in some question. I do hope you don’t mind his accompanying us.”

“Not at all!” said Mrs. Granger. A hard look crept into her eyes at the mention of how Harry’s relatives had reacted to the news. “You are more than welcome, of course.”

At this Hermione spoke up, “since we’re going to be classmates, maybe you’d like to come visit sometimes for the rest of the summer?” she asked, hopefully.

“Oh, uh,” began Harry. He had never really had a friend before. Dudley and his gang had always chased away anyone who had shown the slightest interest in Harry before. But looking at the hopeful, almost longing expression on Hermione’s face, Harry’s broke into a broad smile. “I’d like that, a lot,” he finished earnestly.

The rest of the journey passed in companionable conversation, Harry and Hermione speaking excitedly about the topics they might get learn about at Hogwarts, while Mr. Granger peppered Professor McGonagall with questions about the wizarding world and Mrs. Granger flitted back and forth between the two ongoing conversations. Before long they were pulling up in front of a grubby looking pub with a book store on one side and a record store on the other.

The pub had a rather dilapidated looking sign hanging over the entrance that said ‘The Leaky Cauldron’. While Hermione seemed clearly more interested in the book store, both Mr. and Mrs. Granger were looking rather confused, eyes shifting between the book store and the record shop, as if they weren’t even seeing the pub in front of them.

“I’m afraid our destination has a notice-me-not charm on it for muggles, to prevent any non-magical peoples from wandering accidently, you see. We’re looking for the Leaky Cauldron, right about there,” Professor McGonagall said, gesturing at the pub in front of them. At her explanation Mr. and Mrs. Granger went from appearing confused to surprised as they suddenly saw the grungy looking building in front of them.

“Now, if you’ll head in and speak to the barman, Tom, I’d like to have a quick word with Mr. Potter here before heading in. Tell him you’re muggles looking for Diagon Alley, accompanied by Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, he’ll see you to the proper entrance.”

“Of course,” said Mrs. Granger. Looking kindly down at Harry she said “we’ll see you in a bit,” before walking off with her husband and daughter in tow, the latter looking tentative as they approached the pub.

“Mr. Potter,” said Professor McGonagall brusquely, “I wanted to speak with you before heading in as this will be your first contact with the magical world in nearly a decade. I feel I should warn you, the events surrounding your parents, He-who-must-not-be-named, and your miraculous survival have made you quite the celebrity in our world. To many you are known as ‘The Boy Who Lived’ and many credit you with the Dark Lord’s downfall. There isn’t a child alive in our world who doesn’t know your name.”

Harry was astounded. After a few moments of silence, he finally found his voice and croaked “but that can’t be. I’m Harry, just Harry.”

“Well I can assure you, Mr. Potter, that in my classes I can promise to always treat you a such. But I’m afraid to most of our world you are much, much more than that. You will acclimate to the attention, I am sure, given enough time, but I thought you should be aware of it _before_ your return to our world.”

Harry gulped, took a deep breath, and then nodded to Professor McGonagall. He was ready. Turning together, they headed into the Leaky Cauldron and to the new world that awaited Harry beyond.

***

When Harry emerged from the back of the Leaky Cauldron he felt profoundly uncomfortable. He had never received more attention in his life, even one of his future professors had been stammering when they’d met, too nervous to even shake Harry’s hand. He was grateful, then, when Professor McGonagall had rushed him through the throngs of people who seemed desperate to simply steal a glance at him before they departed. Fortunately, not many people had the courage to stay under Professor McGonagall’s scrutiny and a path was cleared for them to depart through the back door of the pub.

It was there that they encountered the Grangers gaping at their surroundings in open mouthed amazement, in which Harry promptly joined them. They were in a large shopping center bustling with activity all around them. However, unlike the shopping centers that Harry had seen on television, this one sold distinctly stranger items, items like cauldrons, owls, and flying broomsticks. It was the best thing he had ever seen. After a few moments, Harry realized that the people around him were dressed rather oddly as well. Clad in his too large t-shirt and quadruple rolled up jeans, he was very aware of the fact that witches and wizards surrounding him were all dressed in long robes and cloaks of various colors, many even had long pointed hats on their heads.

After allowing them all to indulge for a minute, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat sharply, pulling the group’s attention away from their surroundings and on to her.

“I’m glad you all approve,” she said, a glint of amusement in her eye. Turning to the Grangers “we will begin by going to Gringotts, our wizarding bank. There, the goblins will help you set up your own vault and convert some of your currency to ours. While you do that, Mr. Potter and I will visit his vault to make a withdrawal.”

“Um, Professor?” Hermione began. “Did you just say goblins?”

Beginning the walk towards a large, magnificent building of white marble at the end of the alley, Professor McGonagall replied. “Indeed Ms. Granger. Goblins and humans have a long, and at times contentious history which you will no doubt learn much about in your History of Magic class. However, at present, and for the last several hundred years, goblins have been the caretakers of wizarding gold worldwide. They are their own nation, ungoverned by our laws, which makes them excellent impartial chaperones for our wealth. They are proud race, though, so be sure to address them with respect and they will do the same with you. Don’t worry though, they do hire some witches and wizards to work for the bank, and it will be one of these who walks you through the vault set up process. They find that muggles are much more comfortable around other humans,” she finished, with a knowing smile at the visibly relieved Grangers.

They came to the top of the pure white marble staircase as she finished her explanation and stepped into the impressive building. The large atrium was flanked by two rows of tall teller stations, at each of which sat a short, fierce looking creature with sharp teeth, pointed ears, and long, dangerous looking fingers. Professor McGonagall confidently stepped to the nearest open teller and said in a clear voice “Good afternoon, Master Goblin. I am Minerva McGonagall, escorting Harry Potter to his vault. I would also like to request a vault opening for the Granger family hear, at your earliest convenience.”

The goblin in questions looked down at Professor McGonagall with his, Harry assumed it was a he, beady eyes before, barely moving his lips, he said “very well, Ms. McGonagall. I assume you have Mr. Potter’s vault key?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned his head and barked to a nearby witch “Stevens! Help the Grangers here open their vault.” Turning back to Professor McGonagall he asked “will Mr. Potter only be making a withdrawal? Or shall we run through the Potter accounts with him as well?”

After some brief consideration, while handing a small key to the goblin, Professor McGonagall said “let’s run through the accounts, yes? It’s best Mr. Potter be introduced to as much as possible, even if he can’t access it all yet.”

With a nod as if he had been expecting this answer, the goblin barked again, this time to another goblin “Griphook! Take Mr. Potter and Ms. McGonagall to vault seven hundred and thirteen.” Then, to Harry and Professor McGonagall he said “the Potter account goblin will be ready upon your return from the vault, Knifewrench, his name is.”

Harry, too overcome by the proceedings for words, simply kept quiet as he and Professor McGonagall were led away by the goblin named Griphook while the Grangers walked off with the kind looking witch, Stevens. They exited the beautifully adorned central atrium through two ornate doors and abruptly found themselves standing in what appeared to be a cave with a mine cart sitting on rails in front of them. With a nasty smile, Griphook gestured to the cart and said “If you would, Mister, Miss.”

With more than a little trepidation, Harry got into the cart. He saw, however, that Professor McGonagall looked perfect at ease as she got in next to him, which calmed him down a bit. Griphook himself entered the cart and no sooner had he sat down than the cart took off at a breakneck pace along the rails. After the initial shock of the sudden movement wore off, Harry found himself quite enjoying the ride. It reminded him of scenes he had seen on television of kids visiting amusement parks and riding roller coasters. He, of course, had no frame of reference to compare this ride to firsthand, but he imagined it compared favorably. He was certainly having more fun here with a goblin and a witch than he would if he were forced to go along with Dudley and his friends again, he thought remembering the disaster at the zoo with a shudder.

Before he knew it, the cart came to a sudden, screeching halt in front of a large door with the numbers “713” displayed above. As Harry and Professor McGonagall clambered out of the cart, Griphook ran one long finger over the surface of the door before it appeared to simply melt away. Craning his head around Griphook’s back to peer inside, Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. His vault was a small to medium sized room, but inside, piled floor to ceiling, were heaps of gold, silver and bronze coins. It was a veritable fortune.

Turning to Professor McGonagall, Harry asked weakly “this is all mine? From my parents?”

“Indeed, Mr. Potter. This all belongs to you. And not just what you see here, either. The Potters are an Ancient and Noble family, dating back many centuries with a large estate. This vault, I believe, is simply what you can access until you come of age on your seventeenth birthday. But your appointment with Master Knifewrench will elucidate all of this for you.” With a wave of her wand a cloth sack appeared in the air in front of her and she continued “for now, why don’t you just fill this and it should cover the initial costs of your school supplies, and leave you some leftover for some odds and ends throughout the school year.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This pile of precious metal in front of him, which he could comfortable live off of for not one, but several lifetimes, was just a small portion of what his parents left for him? Somehow, of all the shocks he had received this day, even more so than the fact that he was wizard, or that he had somehow defeated an evil dark lord as a baby, this one was the hardest for him to swallow. ‘ _All this gold’_ he thought _‘and it still couldn’t protect them from Voldemort. I guess it’s true what they say, that money can’t buy happiness. I know I would trade all of this and more just to have my parents with me.’_

Numbly, he walked forward with the money bag and quickly scooped several handfuls of the coins into it. Bag rattling with his newfound wealth, the trio made their way back to the mine cart and quickly found themselves back in the opulent atrium of the bank. As they walked in, Harry noticed a particularly well dressed goblin waiting, eyes on the door. Upon sighting them, the goblin quickly hurried forward and presented himself in front of Harry. Roughly the same height and staring into Harry’s eyes with a look intense enough to be disconcerting the goblin said “Mr. Potter, how nice to meet you. I am Master Knifewrench. I have been managing the Potter estate with Gringotts for some 65 years, working with your father, and with his father before him. I trust that your trip with Griphook went well?”

Harry was thrown off balance by the mention of his father and grandfather, but remembering Professor McGonagall’s comments on the importance of courtesy with the goblins, quickly recovered. Extending his hand Harry said “ni-nice to meet you too, Master Knifewrench. Yeah, everything with Griphook was great.” 

Knifewrench considered Harry’s outreached hand for a moment before grasping it for just a moment and letting it go. “What a strange wizard you are, Mr. Potter. Most in your position would never _deign_ to shake the hand of a nonhuman like myself.”

Horrified that he had already done something wrong Harry quickly stammered “oh, um, I’m sorry if I offended you, Master Knifewrench. I’m really not sure how to act in this situation.”

For the first time, Knifewrench’s mouth twisted into a feral smile. “Not at all, Mr. Potter. It is quite refreshing, after all, to be treated as an equal for once. Now then, shall we adjourn to my office to review your accounts?”

Relieved, Harry quickly nodded his head. “Okay. And Master Knifewrench, would you mind just calling me Harry?”

Confirmed in his view of the young wizard in front of him, Knifewrench nodded. “Of course…Harry.”

They walked the short distance to Knifewrench’s office, a modest but nicely decorated space. Taking a seat behind the large desk Knifewrench examined Harry of his steepled fingers as Harry and Professor McGonagall took their seats. “I trust, Harry, that you are okay with Ms. McGonagall joining us for this discussion, even though she is not your guardian or an approved account member?” At Harry’s nod, Knifewrench continued. “Very well. And in terms of your current understanding of the Potter accounts, I take it that you have had no prior instruction. Is that correct?” Another nod.

“I see. Well then, I shall start at the beginning, Harry. Please feel free to interrupt with any questions. The Potters are an Ancient and Noble family. What this means is that the Potter bloodline has been around for at least one thousand years, designating it as an Ancient family, and that the Potter bloodline has been recognized for some feat by an authority in the past century, designating it as a Noble family. If a family goes too long without any noteworthy feats, it will lose its Noble designation, or if a family line dies out it loses its Ancient status. Families of these three statuses, being Ancient, Noble, or Ancient and Noble, make up a sort of nobility in wizarding Britain, called the Wizengamot, similar to the House of Lords in the muggle parliament. The Wizengamot is currently consists of one hundred and forty-two families, however only six families currently hold the Ancient and Noble status, as your does. Each family has a representative in the Wizengamot who meets regularly to vote on laws, hear court cases, and generally set the direction of the wizarding government in Britain while the Ministry of Magic runs it day to day. As the last remaining Potter, upon your majority at seventeen you will be expected to take up your family seat. Currently, your seat has been dormant, as the proxy your parents named in the will has been unable to perform their duties due to medical concerns. You may either leave the seat dormant, or appoint a proxy in your stead as the Potter heir.”

Harry was floored. He had expected this meeting to consist of hearing large numbers and looking through boring account documents, not to find out that he was wizarding nobility! When would the shocks of this day stop? Realizing that Knifewrench was waiting for a reply Harry asked “er, do I need to decide right now? I don’t really know what to think or anybody to appoint. Could we leave it dormant for now, and then appoint someone later, once I have a better idea?”

“An excellent suggestion, Harry,” Knifewrench said, approvingly. “In my opinion, far too many wizards like to vote in the Wizengamot without properly understanding their actions, simply because they like being listened to. Now, with that out of the way, let’s move on to your accounts here. The Potter estate currently consists of two houses in Britain, Potter Manor, your family’s ancestral home, and Griffin Door, a smaller house your father bought during his time as head of house as a getaway. There is also another house in France, Maison de Triomphe, which was earned by your great-grandfather, Henry Potter, for his part in aiding the muggles fighting in the First World War. Incidentally, his contribution to healing and limiting fatalities on both sides of the war is also what earned the Potter family its’ most recent Noble designation. I’m sorry to say that all of the Potter house elves, due to the lack of having a master to serve, have been released from their contracts and joined new families. As such, the house elves in the employ of Gringotts have been maintaining all three properties for the last ten years, for a small fee.”

“House elves?” Harry interrupted, puzzled.

“Another nonhuman magical being,” provided Professor McGonagall. “They bond with families and serve them to maintain their homes and assist with any matters their masters deem necessary. They’re not exactly uncommon, but rarely seen in the employ of anybody but old pureblooded wizarding families, and large institutions like Hogwarts or Gringotts.”

Something about that didn’t sound right with Harry. After a moment’s contemplation he asked “their masters? Are they slaves?” with a note of anger in his voice.

Looking slightly uncomfortable Professor McGonagall explained “Not…as such. House elves are bound by ancient magic though and are compelled to serve their families, no matter what. However, they must also enter in to their contracts willingly. This does lead to issues, however, as the contract is made with the family, not with the individual. So, if the elf entered into an agreement with a particularly kind witch or wizard, who was succeeded by a cruel son or daughter, the elf would have no way of getting out of the contract, they could only be released by the head of the family they’re bound to. It is not a good system, but it is difficult to change due to the ancient magic involved. The Potter elves, though, were always treated with respect and kindness. Your grandparents and parents saw them not as servants, but as members of the family.”

Grudgingly accepting this explanation, even though the whole idea still rankled him, Harry turned back to Knifewrench.

“A strange wizard indeed, Harry. I look forward to seeing how you progress as you acclimate to this world of ours. Now then, carrying on,” Knifewrench said. “The Potter estate is also the majority shareholder in twelve businesses, and is invested in thirty-four other businesses as well. All in all this leads to a monthly intake of roughly fifteen thousand galleons, and as expenses have been minimal the past decade the overall estate has grown handsomely. The vault you entered today is the Trust that your parents set aside for you before you reach your majority and contains twenty-five thousand galleons. They had intended it to last throughout your entire childhood, but as you only made your first withdrawal today, it contains quite a bit more than you will likely need for the next six years. Upon your coming of age, you will gain access to the full family vault which contains, beyond the Potter capital, whose sum you can see here, various items of worth including family heirlooms, art, and of course, your parents’ wands. Now, if you wish, as the Potter heir you can choose to start taking a more active roll in the estate management, leave it to me, or transfer to another account manager if you find my work unsatisfactory. How would you like to proceed, Harry?”

Staggering under this new information, especially at the vast size of his family estate, it took Harry a moment to find his voice. He barely understood everything Knifewrench had said to him, and he certainly didn’t know how to manage an estate of any size, much less one that must have made him one of the richest people in all of Britain! Finally, he managed to croak out “no, Master Knifewrench, I don’t know enough about it to get any more involved. It sounds like you’re doing a good job though, so I’d like you to continue managing it, if that’s alright with you?” At Knifewrench’s pleased smile and nod, Harry continued “but I’m wondering, how can I learn about this? I guess I have the next six years to get caught up on all of this, as well as learning how to use magic and it’s all just, a lot,” he finished, somewhat lamely.

“Ah, Harry, it certainly is a lot. But at least you have the desire to learn it, not all wizards do. I take it, you’re here to gather your supplies for Hogwarts? I can recommend several books for you to purchase at Flourish and Blotts along with your school books that can at least get you started. Many of your classmates will also likely be fairly well versed in these topics, especially of the Wizengamot, so I’d encourage you to ask them questions and learn from them. And also,” he paused, looking thoughtful, “you may write to me and ask any other questions, whether about the Potter estate in particular, or more general. I would not normally make myself available in this way, but as I said earlier, you are a very strange wizard, Harry Potter, and I find myself interested in where you go from here.”

After reviewing a few more minor particulars and saying their farewells, Harry and Professor McGonagall departed Knifewrench’s office into the grand atrium of Gringotts. They saw the Grangers waiting for them near the door and walked over to join them. They had barely reached them when Hermione excitedly started chatting with Harry, asking about the things he had seen and hadn’t he found the whole experience so interesting, and wondering what other nonhuman magical beings might exist, oh and weren’t the goblins themselves simply fascinating. Harry was surprised, the shy girl he had met just a few hours earlier seemed to have disappeared as Hermione’s boundless curiosity washed over him, barely allowing him the chance to respond as her queries all tumbled out one after another.

As they reached the bottom of the steps outside of Gringotts, Mr. Granger suggested they take a break and get some ice cream at the shop they had passed on their way into the alley, Florean Fortescue’s, his treat. Harry, who had never been offered his own ice cream before, only Dudley’s leftovers, enthusiastically agreed. After a short break during which they spoke mostly of Gringotts and the goblins, the group finally began their shopping. They started with getting Harry and Hermione fitted for their school robes at Madam Malkin’s before heading over to the book shop Knifewrench had mentioned, Flourish and Blotts. Even though Harry purchased the additional books Knifewrench suggested on top of his school materials, Hermione walked out of the store with nearly double the number of books he had. They had had to drag her out of the store too, or else they easily could have spent the rest of the day there. They quickly stopped in Amanuensis Quills to purchase parchment, quills, and ink for the coming year, and then the apothecary for their cauldrons basic potions sets.

Finally, with the rest of their shopping out of the way and Mr. Granger laden down with many heavy packages it was time to buy what Harry was most excited about, their wands. As they made their way to the wand shop, Ollivander’s, they came across the largest man Harry had ever seen in his life. He was frighteningly large, easily towering over all of them with hands the size of dinner plates and wild, tangled beard obscuring his face. However, when he saw Harry and Professor McGonagall he hurried up to them.

“Well tha’ can’t be, Harry Potter!” he exclaimed. “Yer look so much like ya da’! Oh, ‘scuse me. I’d be Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts,” he said, puffing up his chest proudly. “I can’t belie’e how big yer gotten! Las’ time I saw ya, yer could fit in the palm o’ me hand, yer could! O’ course yer only a baby a’ the time. Oh, sorry, Professor McGonagall, didn’ mean ta ignore ya, I jus’ got so excited seein’ Harry here!”

Harry quickly decided that despite this man’s intimidating appearance he quite liked him. His eyes were incredibly kind, and his smile genuine as he gazed down at Harry with a look that Harry had never had aimed in his direction before.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hagrid,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Oi! None of tha’ mister talk. Everyone calls me Hagrid, an’ you will too!” he said, eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Hagrid, then,” said Harry. “Are you here showing around a muggleborn student as well?”

“Nah, tha’s not me cup o’ tea, ter be hones’. Always end up forgettin’ to tell ‘em important stuff. I’m jus’ here to pick up summat for Professor Dumbledore a’ Gringotts,” he said again puffing up his chest proudly at the importance of his task. However, at this mention of Gringotts Professor McGonagall cleared her throat meaningfully. Starting at the noise, Hagrid continued “Oh, er, uh, so yer doin’ yer school shoppin’ I suspect. Nearly got it all?”

“Yup,” Harry said. “We just need to get our wands and we’ll be all set. Oh! This is Hermione Granger, by the way. She’ll be starting Hogwarts with me in fall. And these are her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Professor McGonagall decided to do our magical introductions together.”

Having had a few minutes to recover from the shock of the sight of Hagrid, the three Grangers smiled and waved, exchanging a few words with the giant of a man.

“Now, Hagrid,” interjected Professor McGonagall, “we really must be getting on before Ollivander’s closes.”

“Oh! Yeah, o’course, Professor,” Hagrid said, a dawning expression on his face as if he had just had an idea. “Righ’ you are! Well, nice meetin’ you, Harry, Hermione. See ya soon!” And with an expression of delight on his face. Grinning at their encounter with the giant man, Harry turned back towards Ollivander’s and they made their way inside. 

Their meeting with Mr. Ollivander was decidedly less enjoyable than their meeting with Hagrid. There wasn’t anything _wrong_ , exactly, with Mr. Ollivander. But he was very disconcerting to be around. He started with Hermione, and after taking dozens of very thorough, and seemingly pointless, measurements and asking Hermione several questions he departed for the back room of his dusty shop and returned with three long thin boxes.

Taking the first wand out he handed it to Hermione who nervously asked, “uh, Mr. Ollivander? How do I decide on what wand I want?”

“The wand chooses the wizard, Ms. Granger,” he said simply. “Or witch,” he amended.

Unsure of what exactly this meant, she gave the wand a wave, like she had seen Professor McGonagall do earlier, with a swish and flick. But nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander wordlessly took the wand and handed her the second wand from the pile he had brought. This time, though as soon as it was clasped in her hand a warm glow appeared to suffuse out of Hermione and her bushy hair appeared to stir as if in a breeze, despite the decidedly still air in Mr. Ollivander’s stuffy shop.

With a pleased expression, Mr. Ollivander said “Ah, vine wood, 10¾ inches, with a core of dragon heartstring. Interesting, vine wood is rarely a suitable match, but those that do bond with it tend to go on to great things. And dragon heartstring wands produce the most power, and learn the most quickly. I think we will have to expect many great things from you, Ms. Granger.”

While the things he were saying were kind, and Harry noticed Hermione’s parents visibly swell with pride at acknowledgment of their daughter’s potential, the intensity of Mr. Ollivander’s gaze from his yellow eyes was disquieting. As Hermione, blushing stepped away from Mr. Ollivander to make room for Harry, he stepped forward, nervous about what Mr. Ollivander would say, but excited at the same time.

Mr. Ollivander repeated the same measurements for Harry and walked back into his shop before returning with three wands, as he had for Hermione. Harry didn’t feel anything special as he waved each of these and so, with a gleam in his eye, Mr. Ollivandar retreated and returned with three more wands. This process repeated several times, Harry growing worried with each failure, but Mr. Ollivander growing more zealous. Finally, after the eighteenth failure managed to blow up a glass vase on Mr. Ollivander’s counter, a curious expression seemed to fall over him. He retreated to the back of his shop as he did before, almost seeming to glide this time in his stupor. He returned, not with three wands, as Harry had been expecting, but just one.

Deliberately, Mr. Ollivander handed Harry this wand, the same curious expression etched on his face. This time, as the wand came into contact with Harry’s palm, his entire body felt warm and a small whirlwind of air seemed to surround Harry as sense of rightness settled over him, like he was reuniting with a long-lost friend. He gave the wand a wave and torrent of red and green sparks jetted from the end, forming into the likeness of great bird which flapped its wings once, then dissipated.

Harry didn’t know what to say, but saw an expression of triumph, and something else, on Mr. Ollivander’s face? Was it fear? If it was, Mr. Ollivander didn’t betray it as he said enthusiastically “ah, Mr. Potter, I should have suspected. Holly wood, 11 inches, phoenix feather core. An exceptionally powerful combination, and exceedingly rare to be matched with a young wizard. Holly wands tend to choose wizards who will need them, who’s lives are destined to cross with danger and hardship. And Phoenix wands rarely choose anyone at all, but when they do, the bond is strong and makes for a powerful combination. These factors alone would have made this wand a good partner for you, but you should also know, that the phoenix who provided the feather for this wand, provided just one other feather. It is very strange, Mr. Potter, that you should be destined for this wand, as its brother gave you that scar.”

Unsure what to say to this, Harry decided that he _definitely_ was not a fan of Mr. Ollivander and just wanted to get out of the shop as quickly as possible. He went to pay Mr. Ollivander the seven galleons for his wand when Mr. Ollivander disappeared to the back of his shop again. He returned holding two boxes. Handing them to Harry and Hermione he said “these are wand holsters. They’ve been enchanted to prevent your wand from being removed from you magically when they’re holstered. Though someone can still walk up to you and take your wand physically if they so choose. I think that there will be great things coming, from both of you, but the way fraught with danger. Take these, and be safe.

Mr. Ollivander refused to take payment for the holsters, so Harry and Hermione handed him seven galleons each, and they walked out of the shop, both nervous about what he had said, but excited to have their wands. Once back outside, Professor McGonagall showed them each how to wear their holster on their non-dominant wrists and then how to strap their wands in for easy drawing.

“These are excellent gifts, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger. I would suggest wearing them all the time, if I were you. I have my own too, you know,” she said, drawing back the sleeve on her robes and allowing them to examine hers.

As they did, Harry noticed Hagrid trundling his way back towards them from further down Diagon Alley. Holding up a beautiful snowy owl in a cage and grinning broadly he exclaimed “Happy Birthday, Harry!”

***

With their shopping behind them, the group made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner before the Grangers departed back home and Harry, well Harry didn’t know where he was going to go. As if on cue, as they walked into the Leaky Cauldron and old wizened wizard in brilliant magenta and turquoise robes with a long silver beard that reached down to his knees appeared in front of them, as if he had sprouted out of the ground.

“Ah, Professor Dumbledore, I was starting to get concerned as to when we would hear from you,” said Professor McGonagall.

“Apologies, Minerva. I had some final preparations to make for the package we received today,” he said smiling. “Ah, and this must be Harry, nice to meet you properly, my boy,” he said, eyes twinkling. Before he could respond, however, Professor Dumbledore turned to the Grangers. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I imagine. Nice to meet you too. And you as well, Ms. Granger,” he said, turning to Hermione at this last. Again, Hermione seemed rather shy in the presence of the older wizard and simply nodded her head before whispering “you too, Headmaster.”

“Nice to meet you too, Professor,” Harry said, after Mr. and Mrs. Granger had exchanged their greetings with the old wizard.

He joined them for a glass of tea after their dinner before turning to Harry and saying, “so, I understand there was a spot of trouble with your aunt and uncle this morning, Harry, is that right?”

“Yes, sir. My uncle said I’m not welcome there anymore. And I don’t want to go back either, sir.”

Dumbledore seemed taken aback by this. “I can understand, Harry, not wanting to go back after they had such a poor reaction. But surely one bad morning wouldn’t make you turn your back on your family.”

“Relatives, sir,” Harry corrected. “The Dursley’s have never treated me as family. I don’t even have a room there, just my cupboard beneath the stairs. I don’t have anything of my own, just Dudley’s left overs. I’m not allowed to do anything but chores, or eat anything but what’s left over after they’ve finished. And if I ever did anything wrong, even accidentally I usually ended up locked in my cupboard for days, with a bloody lip or new bruises. I didn’t even know my name was Harry until I started school. I was always called ‘boy’ or ‘freak’. I don’t ever want to go back there,” he said, voice trembling with emotion. He was determined not to break down in front of his Professors, or his new friend.

The rest of the table had a much stronger reaction to his speech though. Mr. Granger was gripping his fork and knife, knuckles white and hands shaking in anger, looking murderous. Mrs. Granger’s hand was over her mouth in horror. Hermione’s eyes were red rimmed and her cheeks splotchy. Professor McGonagall’s lip had thinned to the point of disappearing, eyes flashing dangerously. And Professor Dumbledore had a look of profound sadness on his face, as tears fell unashamedly from his eyes. Harry hadn’t meant to reveal so much about his life at number four, Privet Drive. But faced with the proposition of going back there, he had to make them understand why that simply wasn’t an option. He certainly wouldn’t be going to Hogwarts if he ever stepped foot back there, the hospital, maybe, but definitely not Hogwarts.

Dumbledore stood and swiftly knelt down in front of Harry, ancient bones creaking in the movement. Locking his light blue eyes with Harry’s emerald he spoke, slowly and firmly. “Harry, I can never apologize enough for leaving you there with them. I knew your mother and her sister never got on well, but I never imagined that anyone, much less Lily’s own sister, could treat a child like that. You will never go back to that place, I assure you. I can only ask your forgiveness, for this old man’s mistake. I am so very sorry, Harry.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to take this speech. Nobody had every really apologized to him before in his life, much less such a respected person whom Harry, in only one day in the magical world, quickly learned was among the most celebrated in wizarding history. Blushing slightly, Harry nodded. “As long as I don’t have to go back there, I’ll be okay.”

“No, Harry. You won’t be going back there. Now, with your permission, I’d like to cast a spell on you to check your health, see if there is any damage we can repair before you get to Hogwarts.”

“Okay, sir,” Harry said, albeit a little hesitantly.

Flourishing his wand over Harry, Professor Dumbledore cast the spell and a look of alarm came across his face.

“Wha-what is it, sir?” Harry asked, nervous at the result.

Quickly schooling his features Dumbledore replied, “nothing Harry, that we can’t take care of. You’re malnourished, but you don’t appear to have any other lasting damage. You do have a remarkably developed magical core, though, for someone your age. Before puberty, it is hard to guess how powerful a witch or wizard will become based on their magical core, but I don’t know of anyone who’s core looked like this that your age who wasn’t an incredible wizard. As for the malnutrition, I think a simple potion regiment should do the trick in the coming months. I’ll have our potions master, Professor Snape whip you up a batch to get you started. Actually, it’s a remarkably simple potion, why don’t you try tackling it as an extra credit project before term starts? The recipe is in your new potions book.”

“Oh…okay, sir.” Harry was rather tired about hearing how different he was from everyone else, even in this world of magic, of goblins, elves, and giant’s like Hagrid, he wasn’t normal.

“As for where you’ll be staying…” Professor Dumbledore began.

“Excuse me, sir. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to invite Harry to stay with us for the rest of the summer, if that’s alright with him,” interjected Mrs. Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a long one! Longer than the rest of the chapters so far combined, actually. I just sat down and couldn't stop writing! Please let me know if you prefer these longer chapters, or the shorter ones like I've been posting until now, or maybe something in between? Some of it was a little annoying to write, like the long explanations about the world, but hopefully they're not too much of a slog to get through. After the first few chapters, I'm hoping I can spend less time explaining things and more time putting my characters (and by that I mean J.K. Rowling's characters) into interesting situations and seeing how they respond. Any comments, positive or constructive, are also appreciated! This is my first fanfic and longer writing project, so any input to help me learn would be awesome. 
> 
> Finally, I gotta give some credit here. I got the idea around much of the structure of the Wizengamot from the excellent fan fic "A Maruader's Plan" by CatsAreCool. I know this type of stuff appears in a lot of fics, but her's is the first place I ever saw it. I think I might have tweaked it with some original ideas, but the overall idea came from reading her fic, and I definitely recommend checking out her work. "A Marauder's Plan" was the third fanfic I ever read and is really what got me hooked. If this story can be 1/10th as good as hers, I'll consider it a success.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry looked up, astonished. ‘ _Did she really mean-. No, surely they couldn’t, actually want me around?’_ he thought.

But what he saw didn’t make any sense. Mrs. Granger was looking at Professor Dumbledore determinedly, while Mr. Granger quickly nodded in approval and Hermione had a look of joy plastered on her face. They didn’t appear to be joking, nowhere did he see that cruel gleam in their eyes the Dursley’s occasionally had when they would pretend to do something nice for Harry before tearing it away at the last second.

“Well there’s an idea,” said Professor Dumbledore, thoughtfully. “What do you think, Harry?”

Harry couldn’t believe it; they were actually asking for his opinion? He would have some say in where he spent the rest of the summer? If he thought about it, Harry wasn’t too chuffed with the idea of spending the rest of the summer with these strangers that he had just met. But as he thought back to the photographs they had in their home, of the three smiling faces peering out with sheer contentedness, he allowed himself to believe, no, to _hope_ , that maybe the Grangers were different.

“Ok,” he choked out. He didn’t trust his voice to say any more.

“Minerva,” said Professor Dumbledore, “any objections?”

“None whatsoever, Albus,” said Professor McGonagall quickly.

“Well then it’s decided! I must off. Minerva, I trust you will educate our newest students in how to get onto the platform? A pleasure to meet you all. I will see you soon, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger.” And with a soft _crack_ Professor Dumbledore was gone.

With a slight look of bemused exasperation on her face, Professor McGonagall quickly instructed the Grangers and Harry in how to access the platform their train would be departing from before standing to depart herself. With a moment’s hesitation she turned back to Harry and said quietly “Mr. Potter, please remember that I am only an owl away. Send that beautiful owl of yours off with a letter addressed to me and I assure you she will find me.” And with that and a loud _crack_ she too was gone.

***

The return trip to the Grangers’ home was uneventful, but exceedingly awkward for Harry. With the departure of the two professors, Harry found that he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet the Grangers’ eyes. He was a burden to them and he knew it, even if they didn’t. It would only be a matter of days before they realized he was a wasted effort, surely, and he would be forced to contact Professor McGonagall to make new arrangements for the rest of the summer.

For their part, sensing that Harry seemed a little overwhelmed by everything, the Grangers’ filled the car ride home with discussions of their own. They spoke about what Hermione might like to do with the rest of her summer (read her new books, of course!), if there was anywhere they wanted to go (the library, of course!), and what she might want for her birthday since she would be spending it away from home for the first time (a new book, of course!).

By the time they reached the Grangers’ home, Harry had barely said a single word. As they entered the foyer of the house Harry suddenly realized he didn’t have anything, apart from what he had bought at Diagon Alley earlier that day. No clothes, no toiletries, nothing.

With a panicked look at Mrs. Granger he quickly blurted out “I’msorryIdon’thaveanyclothesorsoaporanything!”

“Woah, woah, Harry, slow down, dear,” said Mrs. Granger kindly. “What is it you need?”

“Er, I’m sorry, Mrs. Granger, but when I left my relatives’ house earlier today, I didn’t bring anything with me. I don’t have any clothes or a toothbrush or anything,” he said, keeping his eyes determinedly on the floor.

“Oh, not to worry, Harry! We’ve got plenty of spare toiletries around the house and I’m sure I can rustle up some of Dan’s old clothes for you to wear tonight. They’ll be big on you, I’m afraid, but no bigger than what you’re wearing right now. And I’ve got to tell you, Harry, even if you had a trunk full of your… _cousin’s_ clothes with you, I’d still be taking you shopping all day tomorrow for some clothes that fit you properly.”

Harry looked up, and for the first time since the Leaky Cauldron, met Mrs. Granger’s eyes. And what he saw looking back at him was a look of such warmth, and kindness as he’d never seen before, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her gaze. He slowly nodded his head before another thought came to mind.

“But, Mrs. Granger, I haven’t got any muggle money,” he said in a small voice, still unable to look away from her.

“Hmm, well Professor McGonagall did mention that the exchange rate was about five pounds per galleon. Why don’t Dan and I pay for the clothes tomorrow, and you can just pay us back in galleons? It wouldn’t hurt for Dan and I to have some wizarding money around to buy little odds and ends for Hermione while she’s up at school.”

Harry nodded his head, relieved. So far, he didn’t seem to be too much of a burden on the Granger family. And they way that Mrs. Granger seemed to simply be able to solve problems with barely a thought was amazing. He knew that if he presented this many problems to his aunt or uncle he wouldn’t be able to walk properly for a week.

“Right, well then why don’t I show you where you’ll be staying?” asked Mrs. Granger. She ushered him up the stairs to a short hallway on the second floor with four doors, two on the left, one on the right, and one straight ahead.

“Hermione’s room is up here on the right,” said Mrs. Granger, “my and Dan’s room is straight ahead. The second door on the left is the loo and our guest room is right next door, across the hall from Hermione.”

They walked into a well appointed, if a little plain, room with a full size bed, a small writing desk and chair, and several bookcases. It appeared as if the bookcases were overflow from the books that Hermione couldn’t fit into her own room. As Harry’s eyes fell onto the bed and the realization that this whole room was just for him, it suddenly became too much for him.

He cried. He cried for his time at the Dursleys’. He cried for his childhood, He cried for his parents, and the fact that he had never seen that look of warmth from his own mother’s eyes. He cried in terror, of what was to come. He cried for joy, because he knew it couldn’t really get worse. He cried, because for the first time in his life, he was going to sleep in a bed.

At some point, Harry wasn’t quite sure when, he had been wrapped up in Mrs. Granger’s arms. He saw Mr. Granger standing in the doorway, looking at him with the same kind of tenderness that he seemed to reserve for Hermione. Neither of the Grangers said a word, they just stayed with him while he cried and cried and before he knew it, Harry was asleep.

***

The next morning Harry woke up to something he couldn’t remember ever waking up to before, the smell of breakfast cooking. At the Dursleys’ he had always been responsible for cooking breakfast since he was tall enough to reach the stovetop. In a panic that he had overslept he ran down the stairs and straight into the kitchen, determined to at least finish cooking breakfast even if he had missed the start.

As he scrambled into the room he saw Mr. Granger cheerfully frying up some eggs while chatting with Mrs. Granger as she poured a glass of tea. Hermione was also seated at the kitchen island, reading a book, feet dangling from the stool and swinging contentedly as she read the beginning chapters of _Hogwarts: A History_.

Mrs. Granger looked up and smiled as Harry ran into the room and said “ah, Harry, dear. I was just about to come and wake you, breakfast is almost ready. Why don’t you take a seat next to Hermione?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t wa- wait, what?” he asked, confused.

“Breakfast, dear. It’s almost ready. Didn’t you ever eat it at your… well, before?”

“Er- yeah, I guess, if there was enough. But usually I cooked it first,” he said.

“Ah, another man of culture, I see,” said Mr. Granger jovially. “I don’t know how to tell you this Harry, but I’ll not be relinquishing my cooking duties any time soon. I’ve got to cook as much as I can for my little girl before sending her off to some dusty old castle where she’ll probably be eating newts and toads and whatnot. You’re welcome to help whenever you want though, I could always use another set of hands”

” _Dad!_ ” exclaimed Hermione, her face turning a bright crimson

“Sorry, honey, I just had to get you out of that book so you could enjoy your breakfast,” said Mr. Granger with a chuckle.

“Er, thank you, Mr. Granger,” said Harry, somewhat stiffly. He could help cook if he wanted to? But he wouldn’t be forced to?

‘ _I’m not sure I’m not already at Hogwarts, this place seems like magic to me,_ ’ he thought.

“Actually, I’d like that, Mr. Granger, helping with the cooking. Can I do the dishes too?” Anything to not be a burden on the family and get sent away.

“Hmm, maybe tomorrow Harry. Today’s your first day as our guest so let us extend some hospitality! If you want to help out though we certainly won’t turn you away. Maybe you can even teach Hermione a thing or two about helping around the house,” he said good naturedly.

“ _Dad!_ ” exclaimed Hermione again. Before he knew it, all three of the Grangers were laughing at their antics as Mr. Granger served some fried eggs and bacon to everybody.

They spent some time chatting over their breakfast as Harry mainly kept quiet and observed how the three Grangers interacted with each other. Their breakfast was soon interrupted, however, by a tapping on the kitchen window. Harry looked to see a large barn owl flapping impatiently in the window before running over to let it in. It had a small parcel tied to its leg addressed to ‘H. Potter’. He quickly removed the parcel and the owl immediately flew off.

With the Grangers’ eyes on him, Harry quickly opened the package to find a note and seven crystal vials in a wooden rack.

“ _Potter,_

_This package contains the week’s worth of nutrition potions Dumbledore requested for you. Take one each morning with your breakfast._

_-S.S”_

The note seemed a little abrupt, but the instructions were clear enough, he supposed. He lifted up one the vials and inspected the amber colored potion quickly. It looked a little but like honey and didn’t really smell like anything at all. Shrugging, he drank the whole vial down in one. It tasted almost like chicken broth, not bad, really, although it felt very heavy in his stomach. 

Before long, Mrs. Granger turned to Harry and said “well, Harry, dear, we had best get a move on. We’ve a lot to buy, I expect.” Gulping down the last of his breakfast Harry nodded vigorously. He was a little nervous about the upcoming shopping expedition, with all the attention that was going to be on him for most of the day. But if he was honest with himself, he was also extremely excited to have comfortable clothing that fit for once, his own clothing.

“Hermione, do you want to come too? Or stay home with your father?” asked Mrs. Granger.

Hermione looked torn, glancing down at the book in her hand and then at the stack of books across the room indecisively, before her eyes settled on Harry. With a quick nod of her head she said “yeah, mum. Let’s go.”

***

The expedition was long. It was grueling. Harry thought it was never going to end. And he had a blast. Mrs. Granger took Harry and Hermione to a nearby mall, and Harry was sure that she intended to enter every shop before the day’s end. He had been forced to try on scores of shirts, multitudes of pants, sometimes even retrying on clothes he knew that fit, just to see how they looked with other clothes!

Through it all Mrs. Granger never seemed impatient, or like she couldn’t wait to get out of there. In fact, the longer they were there the more into it she seemed to get. Hermione, on the other hand, had brought _Hogwarts: A History_ to the mall with her, so she was perfectly content to wait as Harry tried on every article of clothing Mrs. Granger could get her hands on, barely looking up each time he came out of the dressing room to show them his latest look. There was only one time, when he had tried a dark green tee shirt that ‘brought out his eyes’ according to Mrs. Granger, that Hermione seemed to tear her gaze away from the book for longer than second.

By the days’ end Harry left the mall tired, laden with a variety of shopping bags, and with a huge grin plastered to his face. He had bought about a dozen tee shirts, a few polos and button down shirts, a couple of pairs of jeans, two pairs of dress slacks, some trainers and dress shoes, two packages of underwear (these, surreptitiously with an embarrassed look to make sure Hermione didn’t see), two dozen pairs of socks, a couple of jumpers, and even two sets of bathing trunks.

Despite his contentedness with all of his new possessions, Harry wasn’t sure if he had any shopping left in him after nearly two full days of the activity. As soon as he got back to the Granger’s home he ran up to the room he was staying in to pack his clothes away in the magical trunk he had bought the day before, complete with an undetectable expansion charm, featherlight charm, and a full wardrobe that collapsed easily within the trunk. He took some time to put on one of his new outfits, a pair of jeans with the green shirt that both Granger women seemed to approve of, before happily grabbing Dudley’s old clothes and promptly tossing them in the rubbish bin before heading down to join the Grangers for dinner.

***

The next few days passed in a pleasant blur. Despite Mr. Granger’s protests, Harry had taken it on himself to wake up early in order to cook breakfast for the family each day. He found that now that he wasn’t being forced to cook, and the fact that the people he was cooking for actually seemed to appreciate it, that he quite enjoyed starting his day in the kitchen.

To Harry’s immense relief, he discovered that, as Mr. and Mrs. Granger owned their own dental practice, they had the habit of simply alternating days in the office during the summer so that one of them could stay home with Hermione, and that Harry’s being there didn’t cause any extra hardship for them.

Harry and Hermione spent much of these days engrossed in their new books, sharing interesting facts that they found with each other, and pointing out the spells they couldn’t wait to try out when they got to Hogwarts. While Hermione was interested in the sheer utility of charms, Harry found himself most drawn to the topic of Defense Against the Dark Arts. They both agreed though that Transfiguration would be among the most interesting topics they’d be studying.

Often, Mr. or Mrs. Granger, whichever was home that day, would spend the day merrily sitting in the living room with both of them, reading books of their own and occasionally interjecting a question into Harry and Hermione’s conversation that would invariably send them scrambling through their books to find the answer. So it was that Harry found himself slowly growing more comfortable spending time and speaking to the entire Granger family.

In the morning of his fifth day at the Granger residence, Harry nervously, but hopefully asked the question he’d be debating the past few days at breakfast.

“Er, Mr. and Mrs. Granger? Do you think that, maybe, we could possibly have a cake for dessert tonight?”

“A cake? What’s the occasion?” asked Mr. Granger jokingly.

Harry, not picking up on the joke in Mr. Granger’s voice replied “oh, er, well today is birthday is all.” 

Both Grangers looked at him dumbfounded.

“Oh my god! Harry, why didn’t you tell us before!?” exclaimed Mrs. Granger. “Of course we’ll have a cake for your birthday! You’ll be turning eleven, right? Oh, there’s so much to do! What’s your favorite food, we’ll have some of that for dinner tonight, of course. Is there anything special you want to do today?”

“Oh, well I didn’t want to make a fuss…”

“Nonsense, Harry! It’s not every day that someone turns eleven! So what’ll it be?”

“What will what be?” asked Hermione as she walked into the kitchen.

“Today happens to be _somebody’s_ birthday, dear!” said Mrs. Granger cheerily.

At this Hermione’s widening eyes darted to look at Harry.

“It is!? Oh, Harry, why didn’t you say so!?”

“Didn’t want to make a fuss…” Harry mumbled again.

“Oh mum, why don’t we take Harry to a movie today!” proposed Hermione.

“Good idea, dear. Let’s go see that new Robin Hood movie, shall we?”

Harry, who had never been to a theater before, immediately agreed.

“Excellent. Now then, Dan, let me walk you to the car before work,” said Mrs. Granger

“Me too, Dad,” said Hermione.

Nonplussed, Harry downed his daily nutrition potion and began to clean up after breakfast, looking forward to his birthday for the first time that he could remember.

***

After the movie, which Harry enjoyed very much, Mrs. Granger and Hermione took Harry to their favorite park for a picnic. They spent hours intermittently chatting happily, snacking on some of the sugar free snacks Mrs. Granger packed for them, and reading from the books each of them had brought along. As the sun started to set, they returned to the Grangers’ home and Harry’s jaw dropped.

The dining room table was full to bursting with all of Harry’s favorite foods and in the center, a large bright yellow cake sat with the words ‘Happy Birthday Harry!’ written in green icing. And at the end of the table, nearest where Harry usually sat, was a small stack of brightly wrapped gifts.

Blinking his suddenly moist eyes rapidly, Harry quickly turned to Mrs. Granger, beaming and said “Thank you so much, Mrs. Granger.”

“Actually, this was Hermione’s idea, Harry. If you’re going to thank anyone, it should be her,” said Mrs. Granger, smiling.

Harry turned his attention to Hermione’s quickly reddening face and, after a moment’s hesitation, said sincerely “Thanks, Hermione,” with a huge grin.

“You’re very welcome, Harry,” said Hermione, happily.

“Well, let’s eat!” said Mr. Granger as he walked into the dining room behind them.

They passed an enjoyable dinner chatting about everything and nothing until finally the time came for Harry to open his first ever birthday gifts. Harry reached out timidly, grabbing one of the three packages on the table. Checking the label, he saw that it was from Hermione. Savoring the moment, he slowly unwrapped the present, a book, of course.

“It’s a journal,” said Hermione, unnecessarily. “I find it helps me keep my thoughts organized and they’re fun to look back on,” she continued, a little nervously.

Harry had indeed noticed Hermione journaling every night he’d stayed with the Grangers so far. It seemed like it was almost therapeutic for her and he was looking forward to trying it as well, although he doubted he’d ever do it quite as diligently as Hermione did.

“Thanks, Hermione. I can’t wait to try it,” he said, smiling.

Blushing, she replied “you’re welcome.”

“Next, next! Next one is from us!” said Mr. Granger excitedly.

Smiling at Mr. Granger’s enthusiasm, Harry reached across the table to the largest gift, a large square box in brilliant blue and orange paper. Ripping off the paper with energy he opened the box to find…more wrapped presents. Looking up he saw Mr. Granger grinning at him mischievously while Mrs. Granger and Hermione groaned at his antics.

Quite enjoying the game, Harry dug into the smaller gifts and after a few moments of frenzied unwrapping found himself sitting amongst an assortment of balls and sports equipment. It seemed that Mr. Granger couldn’t decide on just one sport, and so had bought one of everything. Harry now owned a football, baseball with two mitts, basketball, and even an American football.

“Hermione has never been very athletically inclined,” Mr. Granger explained. “So she’s never wanted to have a catch or pick up game with me before. But I thought you might enjoy it.”

“These are brilliant!” Harry exclaimed, beaming. “Can we go play now?”

“Ha! I thought you’d say that,” said Mr. Granger. Then, after a look from his wife “ahem, maybe tomorrow, Harry.”

Looking forward to it, Harry reached out to take his final present, a slim rectangular box. Eye widening, he saw that it from Professor McGonagall. He unwrapped it to find a handsome eagle feather quill and a short note.

“ _Mr. Potter,_

_First, allow me to say, Happy Birthday! Enclosed is an enchanted quill, designed to help muggleborn and muggle-raised students learn how to write with a quill quickly. As I understand it, few muggles use quills nowadays, despite it clearly being a more refined writing instrument. I would suggest you practice with it for a few hours per week for the rest of the summer and you should be caught up with your peers by the time you arrive at Hogwarts._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House”_

Harry excitedly showed the note to Hermione, knowing she would be just as eager to practice with it as he was.

“Oh, Harry can I please, please practice with it too?” Hermione practically squealed.

“Of course, Hermione. I’d never get in the way of your learning something,” Harry replied with a smile.

The rest of the night passed in happy conversation before Harry, despite their protestations, helped Mr. and Mrs. Granger clear up after their party. That finished, Harry bid the Grangers good night before taking his new gifts up to his room. He decided to give two of them a try at once, writing his first journal entry about his birthday with his new quill.

That finished, he placed the journal by the side of his bed and rolled over. He fell asleep almost immediately, a contented smile on his face. He had just had the best birthday ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoy the new chapter! I think this about the length I'll be aiming for moving forward, around 4k-5k words per chapter. Thank you so much for all of the reviews and kudos, it's so great to know people are enjoying my work!


	6. Chapter 6

The morning after his birthday, following an oddly relaxing breakfast with the Granger family, Harry asked “Hermione, do you want to help me brew some of these nutrition potions? I think that togeth-“

Harry was never able to finish his sentence as before he knew it Hermione had jumped out of her seat, eyes sparkling with excitement “oh, I thought you’d never ask! I’ve been researching the recipe ever since we got home!”

“Oh, er, you have?” Harry asked, confused as to why she would go through so much trouble.

“Of course! Potion brewing is fascinating. The fact that these magical ingredients can have totally different effects depending on what they’re mixed with, not to mention that some potions even use common muggle ingredients, like salt or garlic, is simply astounding. Oh I can’t wait to get started!”

Harry was impressed, both by Hermione’s knowledge of the subject already, and the fact that she seemed to get all of that out in one breath. Smiling at her enthusiasm he said simply “alright, let’s get started then.”

The duo grabbed their potions kits, Harry’s cauldron, and their textbooks and headed to the Granger’s garage, at Mr. Granger’s suggestion, so they would have good ventilation without being out in the open.

“Why don’t we just make one batch for now,” Harry suggested. “So if we mess up we won’t waste too many ingredients? Besides, I wouldn’t feel comfortable working on it alone, at least not for the first time.”

“Good idea, Harry,” said Hermione brightly as she pulled out her copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_. She found the nutrition potion they were looking for in the third chapter of the book and began to read through the instructions for what Harry suspected was the dozenth time.

Overall the process went very smoothly, with Harry and Hermione working well together. Harry, with his years of experience cooking had a lot of good habits that translated well, such as preparing all of his ingredients beforehand and placing them in a logical order so that he always knew what had to be added next. Hermione, on the other hand, was able to focus on the minute details that much more important in potion brewing than in cooking, like the precision of her measurements or adding in a counterclockwise turn after every 10th clockwise stir.

After about an hour of work they were left with a potion that looked, if not exactly the same shade of yellow as the potion their professor had sent, very similar.

“What do you reckon? Think I’ll be able to take this?” Harry asked Hermione thoughtfully.

“Hmm,” said Hermione, biting her lip. “Well you still have one more dose for tomorrow, right? Why don’t you send a sample of it to the professor so that he can check it first?”

“Yeah, I think I will,” Harry replied. “Thanks, Hermione, I couldn’t have done it without you!” And with that he ran off to his room, vial of potion in hand to send it off with Hedwig.

***

The next few weeks passed quickly, basically as a blur to Harry. He spent most week days with Hermione and whichever of her parents stayed home from work that day. They filled their time chatting, going on little adventures around the neighborhood, and Harry quite enjoyed helping Mrs. Granger and Hermione garden. Harry also relished the opportunity to play different sports with Mr. Granger and would often spend an hour or two before dinner in the yard playing with him while Hermione and/or Mrs. Granger watched. Occasionally they even got the Granger women to play with them as well.

Harry and Hermione typically spent their evenings pouring through their new text books, each enthralled by the topics they would soon be learning. Hermione had nearly memorized each of their texts by the end of the summer, while Harry settled for getting the gist of each topic before moving on to the next, too impatient to see what else he’d be learning to wait until he had memorized everything. Harry also spent quite a bit of time reading through the additional books that Knifewrench had suggested for him, learning all he could about wizarding culture and etiquette. And Hermione, of course when he offered, couldn’t turn down the opportunity to learn something new.

Each weekend, the Grangers would take Harry on an outing of some sort. They visited museums in London, went for hikes in the countryside, and even, to Harry’s mortification at being taught such a basic skill, taught Harry how to ride a bike.

Every other week, Harry and Hermione would also each brew a new batch of the nutrition potion for Harry. After sending Hedwig off with his sample, their potions professor had deemed their concoction “Acceptable” but failed to offer any advice on how to improve it. Since they had already done it once together, each felt confident enough to tackle the potion on their own. And the nutrition regiment was certainly having an impact on Harry. Between the consistent potion consumption, plus the regular and full sized meals he was eating, _and_ the consistent exercise he was getting playing with Mr. Granger, Harry filled out quite a bit over the summer. He was still a little on the small side for his age, definitely nowhere near the size of his cousin or any of his friends, but he wasn’t quite as scrawny as he had been either.

Despite all the new experiences he was having this summer, the thing Harry was coming to treasure the most, however, was his friendship with Hermione. He had never had a friend before, Dudley had always seen to that. He wasn’t even sure that he knew _how_ to have a friend. But the two got along well, and Harry found himself eager to share everything that he could with Hermione, from his thoughts and ideas on the classes they would be taking to his own fears and insecurities about attending Hogwarts. One thing he did avoid mentioning though, was his past. As far as he was concerned that was over now, and had no bearing on him anymore. Hermione was at least tactful enough not to push and ask, for which Harry was immensely grateful.

Really, the only worry that Harry couldn’t’ share with Hermione about Hogwarts was also his biggest. They had read in _Hogwarts: a History_ about the four different houses Hogwarts had. He thought he didn’t really seem to fit into any of them, but was sure that Hermione would be going to Ravenclaw, and he knew he had no chance of being selected for that house. And once she was in a different house from him, he was sure that they would stop hanging around together, and he would lose his first ever friend. Or, even worse, that even if they miraculously did end up in the same house, once they got to Hogwarts Hermione would realize he wasn’t worth hanging around anymore, and would choose to leave him.

But of course, he couldn’t mention any of this Hermione. No, he would simply have to enjoy their friendship for as long as it lasted, and look back on it fondly once it invariably ended. And so it was that on the last day of the summer, as Harry packed he found himself extremely conflicted. He was both, excited about the prospect of going to Hogwarts, but also horrified at the idea that soon, much too soon, his friendship with Hermione would surely end.

He sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at the journal that Hermione had given to him for his birthday in his hands as these thoughts rushed through his mind. He heard a soft knock on his door and looked up to Hermione sidling into the room through his open door.

“Erm, Harry, could I talk to you?” she asked, nervously.

“Sure, what’s up?” he replied, feigning casualness. He was sure that his eyes were at least a little glassy as he broke out of his thoughtful reprieve.

“Well, it’s just that tomorrow we head to school and I’m nervous,” she began.

“What do you have to nervous about, Hermione? You’ve basically memorized the entire book set we bought,” he replied, chuckling.

“It’s not that. I’m worried because, well I’ve never really been able to make many friends before. Any, really,” she finished in a small voice, staring down at her feet.

“Well, I’m your friend, aren’t I?” Harry asked nervously, horrified that he had mistaken their interactions all summer as friendship when he really had just been thrust upon her and her family. Afterall, what the hell did he know about friendship?

“ _Of course_ you’re my friend, Harry. But don’t you see? That’s what I’m nervous about. I’ve never had friends before and I’m sure that as soon as we get to school, you’ll be gone just like the rest of them!” She spoke quickly and angrily, the words falling out of her mouth as tears started to threaten her eyes. “After all, why would anyone want to stay friends with a bossy know-it-all like me?”

Harry quickly got up and cross the room. Lifting Hermione’s face by her chin, so that she had to look at him for the first time since entering, despite the moisture in her eyes he said “Hermione, you’re my first and my only friend. The only one I’ve ever had. I’m not going anywhere. This summer has been the best of my entire life, and you’re a big reason why. I’ve been sitting in here worried about _you_ leaving _me_ behind once we get to school. I guess we’re both kinda silly, huh?”

“You were worried that I’d leave you?” she asked, tentatively. And then before he could respond, before he could do anything, Harry found himself wrapped tightly in a hug, the first hug he could ever remember being given. After tensing up for a second, he slowly wrapped his arms around Hermione as well.

“Harry, of course I wouldn’t leave you behind once we got to school. I think you’re kinda stuck with me. That’s what friends are for,” she finished, happily.

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Harry thought as he held Hermione, relief pouring through him that she wasn’t going to leave him after all. ‘ _This is what friends are for_.’

***

The next morning, Harry and the Grangers rose earlier than usual. Both Harry and Hermione had already done the majority of their packing the night before, but they were too excited, and in the case of Mr. and Mrs. Granger, anxious for their impending departure.

Harry, determined to make sure Mr. and Mrs. Granger understood just how much he appreciated them, woke up early, and after his morning ablutions and finalizing his packing, headed down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for everyone. He pulled out all the stops, trying to convey all of his gratitude through this one meal.

Mr. Granger, stumbling into the kitchen around 7:30 stopped at the sight of Harry grinning as he finished the final touches on their breakfast.

“Harry, we talked about this, I’m the cook. Besides, it’s your last day here, I’m supposed to spoil the two of you one last time!” Mr. Granger protested, smiling all the while.

“Sorry, Mr. Granger. I just had to let you all know how thankful I am for everything”

“Not at all,” said Mr. Granger, seriously. “Harry, I hope you know, you’re always welcome here. Emma and I may not be your guardians, but if you ever need somewhere to go, no matter what, our home is open to you.”

“I- thank you, Mr. Granger,” Harry replied, eyes glassy.

“Now then, enough of that!” replied Mr. Granger, enthusiasm returning to his voice. Why don’t I go round up those two sleepyheads so we can enjoy this delicious smelling breakfast together!”

When Mr. Granger returned, with Mrs. Granger and Hermione in tow both looking thoroughly disheveled, the four of them ate their final breakfast together, reflecting on the highlights of their summer and, for the millionth time, wondering aloud what life would be like at Hogwarts together.

Harry and Mr. Granger loaded the car up while Hermione and Mrs. Granger finished getting ready for the day. At around 9 o’clock they set off together for Kings Cross Station. Traffic was light, as it was a Sunday and they made it to the main platform just before 10 o’clock. As per Professor McGonagall’s instructions, they headed towards platforms 9 and 10 and examined the barrier between them.

It certainly _looked_ solid enough to Harry, but as he looked around he saw another teenager, around 16 or 17 years old, he thought, walk straight at the barrier and then before he knew it, the teenager was gone. Supposing they were in the right place, Harry looked at the Grangers, winked at Hermione, and then set off at a run for the barrier.

He emerged onto a platform, not all that dissimilar from the one he had just left, although how this could exist and seem to occupy the same space as another platform he didn’t understand. On the tracks in front of him sat a scarlet steam engine with the words ‘Hogwarts Express’ emblazoned on the front. He noticed around the platform moderate number of witches and wizards, going about their business, enjoying a last few moments together before the children left for school.

As Harry examined his surroundings, the three Grangers erupted from the wall behind him, nearly running him over with Hermione’s luggage cart. Really, they had no need for carts as their trunks were enchanted to weigh next to nothing, but as a small boy and girl walking around the station carrying a large trunk easily might look a little strange, they opted to use the carts to keep up appearances.

Hermione looked around in wonder, as Harry had for a little bit before they made their way onto the platform proper. Thankfully, they had arrived on the earlier side, so there weren’t too many witches and wizards around, so only a handful of people gawked at Harry as some seemed to realize who he was. Flattening his hair over his scar, Harry lead the group towards a nearby train door before turning around to say his farewells.

He was shocked to see, as he turned around, that Mrs. Granger was holding her husband’s arm tightly, clearly fighting back tears, and even Mr. Granger had a strange grim look around the mouth.

“Well, this is it,” Mr. Granger said. He extended a hand towards Harry, knowing that he didn’t like to be touched too much. “You take care of yourself, Harry. Study hard, but don’t forget to have fun. And make sure our Hermione doesn’t lock herself away in the library too much.”

Shaking Mr. Granger’s hand, Harry replied “of course, sir,” in a shaky voice as he suddenly found himself reluctant to leave.

As Mr. Granger scooped up Hermione into an enormous hug, lifting her from her feet to her mild protestations and extreme embarrassment, Mrs. Granger walked over to Harry, looking like she desperately wanted to hug him goodbye, but unwilling to make him uncomfortable. With a slight gesture of his arms, she understood the message and wrapped him up in a tight, if brief hug.

“Harry, dear, do be careful. Learn lots and have fun. And also, thank you,” she said.

“You’re thanking me? For what? I’m the one who’s thankful to you,” he said as they broke apart.

“For everything you do for our Hermione, of course. I can’t remember a summer where I’ve seen her laugh so much or have as much fun. I was nervous sending about sending her away, at first, but now that I know she’ll have when we’re not around, I’m just so glad.”

“I’m happy to have her around too. It’s not so scary, since it’s the two of us together,” he replied, smiling brightly.

With a nod, Mrs. Granger turned to Hermione as her husband finally set her back on the ground and with a much tamer hug and kiss to the top of her head, Mr. and Mrs. Granger said their final goodbyes as Harry and Hermione grabbed their trunks and headed onto the train.

They chose an empty compartment around midway on the train, most of the compartments were still empty as they were so early, stowed their trunks and sat across from each other, next to the window. Despite their sadness at their sendoff from Hermione’s parents, both were positively bouncing in their seats, excited for the adventure to come.

They spent the next twenty minutes or so chatting as the train slowly began to fill up. They turned as their compartment door slid open and a pudgy, round-faced boy with dark brown hair looked in.

“Er, excuse me, do you mind if I join you? Everywhere else is full,” said the boy.

“Not at all!” said Hermione brightly.

Relieved, the boy dragged his trunk into the compartment. Seeing that it wasn’t featherlight like his own and Hermione’s, Harry jumped out of his seat to help the boy stow it in on the shelf overhead.

“Thanks!” he said, slightly out of breath after dragging the heavy trunk around. “I’m Neville, by the way, Neville Longbottom.”

“I’m Hermione Granger.”

“I’m Harry, er, Harry Potter,” Harry said, reluctantly stating his last name. Sure enough, Neville gasped at hearing it, but rather than Neville’s eyes flicking up to look at his scar, he looked Harry excitedly in the eye.

“Are you really? I’ve wanted to meet you for so long! Where have you been all this time? Our parents were great friends, you know!”

“Oh, er, really? I didn’t know actually. I’ve been living with my muggle…relatives. Didn’t even know I was a wizard until a few months ago. That’s when I met Hermione.”

Neville looked dumbfounded at this. “Really? You didn’t even know you were a wiz- wait, do you know about You-Know-Who?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, we heard about him. One of the Hogwarts professors gave both of us an introduction to magic, and she told me a little bit about that. We’ve both been reading up on it since.”

“Wow. Well is there anything you want to know? I’m a pureblood and have had tons of wizarding history and traditions drilled into me for as long as I can remember. My grandmother is pretty insistent about me learning all this. I’m happy to help.”

Harry was surprised, not only had Neville not looked at his scar, but he was actually treating him pretty normally. Not only that, but he was offering to help, apparently for no other reason than the fact that their parents had been friends.

“Sure, Neville, that sounds great. So which house do you think you’ll be in?”

But they never got to hear which house Neville thought they’d be in as, with about five minutes left before the train’s departure, the trio noticed a troop of red heads appear suddenly on the platform, frantically scrambling to get on the train in time. The mother, a short, plump woman with very kind eyes was ushering along a slip of a girl who looked too young to be going to Hogwarts, and very angry about that fact.

There were four boys with them as well, a tall lanky boy who looked to be about 15 with horn rimmed glasses and silver badge pinned to his puffed out chest, a pair of twins with a shorter but stockier build than their older brother, identical mischievous grins plastered to their faces, and a younger boy, almost as tall as the twins despite appearing to be younger, with a freckled face, blue eyes, and a very long, and dirt smeared nose.

Each of the boys dutifully lined up to receive a hug and kiss from their mother before being ushered onto the train, with their mother taking an extra moment to wipe at the youngest boy’s nose before letting him go. The girl, their younger sister, was clinging to the twins, seemingly unwilling to let them go as they struggled to extricate themselves from her grasp.

“Those’ll be the Weasleys,” said Neville as the scene outside their window concluded. “They’re good folk, if a bit scrambled. I think the youngest boy, Ron I think, is supposed to be in our year actually.”

As if on cue, the door to their compartment slid open again, with the aforementioned Ron taking them all in before quickly asking “Hi, could I sit here?”

“Sure!” replied Harry. He again jumped off his seat and, with Neville, helped Ron lift his ancient trunk into the rack overhead. As they did, Harry’s hair shifted across his forehead, revealing his scar.

“Blimey! You’re Harry Potter!” Ron exclaimed, eyes wide as he saw it.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” said Harry, coolly.

“Sorry, mate. It’s just that, you know, you’re famous!” Ron continued, clearly still in awe.

“Yeah, famous because my parents got killed. I’d prefer not to be, believe it or not,” he nearly growled through gritted teeth.

“Blimey, Harry. Everyone always focuses on the good bit, about you defeating You-Know-Who. Everyone obviously knows about what happened to your parents, but I guess everyone prefers to try to forget about that piece. I’m really sorry.” And he looked it, Ron had appeared stricken at Harry’s words, and he could tell that Ron really meant his apology as he said it. Harry also noticed Neville nodding along with Ron’s explanation.

“It’s ok,” Harry sighed. Stretching out his hand “let’s start over, yeah?”

Grinning, Ron quickly shook Harry’s hand. “You got it. I’m Ron by the way, Ron Weasley”

The four of them took their seats as the train started to pull away from the station, and after a round of introductions from Hermione and Neville, began happily chatting about their summers and their expectations about Hogwarts.

At one point they were visited by Ron’s twin brothers, Fred and George they learned, who learned Harry’s identity with a lot more tact than their younger brother. After a brief look of surprise crossed their faces they treated Harry normally enough. They did, however, gossip apparently as about an hour after they had departed the compartment, three more visitors arrived.

“Rumor has it that Harry Potter is in this compartment,” a thin boy with a long nose and pale blonde, slicked back hair said as he looked into the compartment. He was flanked on either side by a pair of gorillas.

‘ _Wait, no,_ ’ thought Harry. ‘ _Those aren’t gorillas, just two boys who look_ very _much like a pair of gorillas. Blimey, they might give Dudley a run for his money in the dumb brute department_.’

“Well?” demanded the blonde boy. “Is it true?”

His eyes scanned over the compartment, quickly discounting Hermione as a possibility for obvious reasons, while one look at Ron’s flaming hair quickly identified him as a Weasley. His eyes began to flick back and forth between Harry and Neville, waiting expectantly for one of them to answer, like they wouldn’t dare not to.

“Yeah,” Harry grunted finally. “What do you want?”

“The name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I just wanted to know who the supposed ‘savior’ of the wizarding world was,” he sneered. “Imagine my surprise that he’s some scrawny kid in _muggle_ clothing. Come on Crabbe, Goyle. I find it hard to breath in this stench.” Turning abruptly Malfoy strode away down the corridor, his two cronies lumbering behind him.

“Malfoy,” Ron spat as he slammed the door shut. “What a git.”

“Do you know him?” asked Hermione.

“Nah, but everyone knows the Malfoys are as Dark as families come. Big time You-Know-Who sympathizers,” he replied.

“Not just that,” piped in Neville. “But Gran says that his father, Lucius I think, was actually one of You-Know-Who’s followers. Apparently, he avoided prison by claiming to be cursed. And with a lot of gold. Gran’s on the Wizengamot until I come of age, said she tried everything she could to get him convicted, but they threw out all the evidence she brought against him.”

“Well, I don’t think Malfoy and I will be getting along,” said Harry, sarcastically.

After another two hours, Ron’s other brother, Percy, stopped by the compartment to tell them a few things. First, he was a prefect. Second, because he was a prefect, they had to listen to him at all times while at Hogwarts and on the Hogwarts express. Third, they should really try to become prefects themselves, although they probably wouldn’t be able to hack it, only the most _exceptional_ students ever achieved such an exalted standing. And fourth, almost as an afterthought while leaving the compartment, that they were nearing the school and ought to get their robes on.

They quickly got dressed and before long the train started to slow and eventually came to a stop. As they hopped off the train, trunks in hand, they were directed to leave their trunks in a sectioned off portion of the platform by a nearby prefect.

That finished, they turned as they heard a booming voice call out “Firs’ years! Firs’ years o’er here!”

Smiling, Harry and Hermione recognized Hagrid’s massive form holding a lantern as a group of student who appeared their age, looking nervous and more than a little intimidated by the behemoth of a man, gathered in front of him. Pulling Ron and Neville along with them, they quickly made their way up to Hagrid.

“Hi Hagrid!” they chimed in unison, smiling up at their biggest friend.

“’Arry! ‘Ermione! Was wonderin’ when I’d be seein’ you lot,” he said warmly. “An’ who’s this?”

“This is Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom, we met them on the train ride here. Ron, Neville, this is Hagrid, gamekeeper of Hogwarts,” said Hermione brightly.

“Nice to meet you,” said Ron and Neville, clearly staring up at the large man in awe.

“Oho, another Weasley! I spend half me life chasin’ yer brothers away from the forest, I do! Good lads though, nice to meet ya. You too, Neville. Knew yer parents, I did. Well anyway, looks like tha’s abou’ all you firs’ years,” he said. “Firs’ years, follow me!”

They made their way down from the station and after a short walk found themselves at the edge of a large lake. Gasping, Harry took in his first sight of Hogwarts. It was a large castle across the lake, several towers piercing the stars with hundreds of windows lit up and reflected in the lake below.

All of the first year quickly scampered into the small row boats Hagrid indicated, with Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville all sharing a boat. Harry noticed that there were no oars in the boat though, but just before he could ask where the oars were the boat began to glide across the water smoothly of its own accord, barely leaving a ripple in its wake.

Open mouthed, the four first years stared up at the imposing castle in front of them. Harry could practically feel the magic humming in the air. He had read all about Hogwarts over the summer, but none of that reading could compare to seeing it in person.

After about 10 minutes, the boats came to a stop in small boat house. As they disembarked, Harry noticed a tall, severe looking woman watching them all shrewdly. Smiling as he recognized Professor McGonagall, Harry helped Hermione out of the boat before walking up to the professor.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall. Thanks for the quill! I used it just like you said I think Hermione and I are both up to snuff now.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Potter. It’s nice to see you again, and you as well, Ms. Granger,” replied Professor McGonagall. Then, speaking to the entire group she said “welcome, all to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall, the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, head of Gryffindor house, and your future transfiguration instructor. Now if you will follow me, I will show you to the Great Hall.”

Professor McGonagall appeared to have the uncanny ability that few teachers possessed to keep a group of children absolutely silent with nothing more than a look. The group of first years followed her quietly up the stairs out of the boathouse and along a short pathway before entering the castle proper. They were standing in a large atrium with staircases going off in every which direction. To their right were two massive doors, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, easily over a hundred feet in height. The doors were currently open to the outside as they saw a large sweeping lawn and off in the distance the front gates of Hogwarts, currently sealed, flanked by two statues of large winged boars.

They were led through a pair of equally impressive doors into the large room directly across the atrium from them. In it were four long tables teeming with students, all wearing black robes trimmed with one of four colors: green, blue, yellow, and red. As they made their way to the back of the room where a fifth long table stood, perpendicular to the others, at which a group of adults sat, Harry looked up at the ceiling which reflected a perfect imitation of the night sky above the roof. Harry and Hermione had read about the enchanted ceiling in _Hogwarts: a History_ and neither could wait to see it ever since.

Stopping before the Head table, Harry noticed a short wooden stool upon which sat a very ancient, and very battered looking, long pointed wizard’s hat. Looking around at the other first years nervously, Harry wasn’t quite sure what was going on. Harry had read about the sorting, but for the life him neither he nor Hermione were able to find out _how_ students were actually sorted. It must have something to do with this hat though.

Suddenly, a rip at the brim of the hat burst open and the hat began to speak, no _sing,_ to the entire hall of students. At the conclusion of its song, Professor McGonagall strode forward with a long scroll of parchment in her hand.

“I will call each of your names, when I do, you will take a seat on the stool and put on the Sorting Hat, which will determine which house you will belong to. While here, your house will be like your family, there to support you when you’re down, and to celebrate with you when you succeed. Good deeds will earn your house points, while poor decisions will lose your house points. At the end of the year, the house with the highest point total will win the house cup. Any questions?”

Nobody dared raise their hand, not in front of a room this full of people, all staring at the group of first years expectantly. With no questions forthcoming, Professor McGonagall began to call each name from the list. For some, the hat decided which house they belonged in quickly, others took longer. The longest so far took about three minutes. That was, Professor McGonagall called “Granger, Hermione!”

With a quick look at Harry, Hermione scrambled up to the stool. She sat quickly as Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head. Harry watched in anticipation wondering where his friend would be sorted. He waited. And he waited. Eventually, nearly ten minutes passed before the finally reached a decision.

“Gryffindor!”

As the Gryffindor house cheered and clapped, Harry clapped along with them for his friend, surprised she hadn’t ended up in Ravenclaw. He noticed that Hermione was blushing pink as she dashed to the Gryffindor table, taking a seat next Fred, or was it George?

Soon after, Professor McGonagall called Neville’s name. Gulping, he stepped forward and took his place on the stool. The hat barely touched his head before it yelled “Gryffindor!”

With a look of surprise at the hat’s decision, Neville stumbled away from the stool and got halfway to the Gryffindor table before realizing that he was still wearing the hat and jogging back and abashedly handing it back to Professor McGonagall, much to the laughter of everyone in the hall.

The next names continued fairly uneventfully, with the students being divided fairly evenly between the four houses. As the sorting went on, Harry noticed small grumblings coming from the assembled student body, clearly impatient and wanting to get to the feast already. However, as Professor McGonagall called Harry’s name, he noticed the hall went deadly silent. He even noticed Professor Dumbledore shift forward in his grand chair at the center of the Head table, watching him expectantly.

Harry stepped forward slowly and sat on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head where, being too large, it slipped over his eyes, obscuring his vision of the hall.

‘ _Hmm, interesting, interesting_ ,’ said a small voice in his ear, no – in his head!

‘ _Another Potter, eh? Yes I see a lot of your father in you. He was in Gryffindor, you know, although I considered putting him in Hufflepuff too. Loyal to a fault he was. Hmm, interesting, plenty of your mother too. Another Gryffindor, although she could have done just as well in Ravenclaw, I’m sure. Yes, this is very interesting indeed_ ,’ the hat rambled in his head.

‘ _Let’s see here, shall we? You’ve plenty of courage, recklessness even I’d call it. Oh Godric would’ve liked you for sure. And then there’s that loyalty, yes you would do anything for your friend, the Granger girl, wouldn’t you? She was another difficult one to place. Plenty of intelligence too, although plenty of self-doubt to go with it, I see. Yes, Ravenclaw would certainly help you sort that out. Ah, and here we have that ambition, a thirst to prove yourself, to show everyone that you belong, eh? Yes, old Salazar could have done great things with you, certainly. Hmm, but where to put you, where to put you_.’

The hat continued to muse over his placement as the minutes ticked by. After nearly fifteen minutes the hat seemed to come to a decision before finally it roared for the crowd to hear “GRYFFINDOR!”

Relief flooded through Harry as he removed the hat to see the Great Hall, and specifically the Gryffindor table erupting with applause. Nearly everyone at the Gryffindor table was on their feet cheering.

“We’ve got Potter! We’ve got Potter!” chanted the Weasley twins, standing on top of the benches waving their arms wildly.

As Harry reached the table nearly everyone wanted to shake his hand or pat him on the back before he was finally able to take his seat across the table from Hermione, who was looking just as relieved as he felt that they were in the same house.

Once the noise quieted down the rest of the sorting proceeded rather quickly until they got to Ron Weasley. He had confidently stated on the train that of course he was going to be in Gryffindor as both his parents and all five of his older brothers had been Gryffindors. Harry was surprised, then, when the sorting hat took almost eight minutes before coming to the same conclusion as Ron and yelled “Gryffindor!”

Ron, looking rather embarrassed about something, quickly handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall and made his way to the table to sit next to Harry.

Once the remaining three students were sorted, Professor Dumbledore gave a short, and rather odd speech before the tables in front of them were suddenly laden with more food than Harry had ever seen in his life. He spent the rest of the feast stuffing himself until he could barely move, and chatting with his new house mates. There were five boys in his year, including himself, and only three girls.

As the last scraps of food disappeared from the table, Professor Dumbledore stood again and delivered some start of term announcements. As Professor Dumbledore mentioned something about an off limits corridor on the third floor, Harry simultaneously met the eyes of one of the professors, a sallow skinned man with greasy black hair and a large hook nose, and felt a sharp pain shoot through his scar.

Hand jumping up to his scar, Harry never took his eyes away from the professor, who looked at him angrily before his face changed and he looked almost confused. As the pain in his scar subsided, Harry broke the eye contact before looking at the turban adorned professor next to him, the same one he had met in the leaky cauldron who had been stuttering at meeting him. Harry definitely hoped that wouldn’t continue or he wouldn’t learn anything in his classes.

Before long Professor Dumbledore concluded his speech and the students began making their way towards the large double doors. Percy stood up importantly, puffing out his chest before gathering all eight of the first year Gryffindors.

He showed them the way to Gryffindor tower and told them the password they would need to open the entrance to their common room. Once inside, he pointed the girls to their dormitories and the boys to theirs. Hermione tiredly shot Harry a look, mouthed ‘ _good night_ ’ and made her way up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory as Harry followed Ron up the stairs to the boys’.

The dormitory was a circular room with five four poster beds arrayed in a semicircle facing the entrance. Harry’s trunk had already been brought up and placed at the foot of the bed second from the left, right between Ron on the left and Neville on the right. Quickly donning his pajamas and uttering a quick good night to his new dormmates, Harry fell into the bed, exhausted from the long day. His last thought before falling asleep though, was one of happiness. He still had Hermione, and now he had Ron and Neville too. With them around, this wasn’t so scary, with them around, he was sure he could do this. And with that, he promptly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covered a lot of ground in this one! I felt bad I took two weeks for my last update, so now y’all get two chapters in one weekend! Also, I meant to say this in my last chapter, but as I’m sure some of you have noticed, I’m trying to use British english slang and terminology where I can. I am American, however, and have never even been to the UK, so if I’ve messed something up in that regard, I’m sorry, I hope I haven’t offended anyone, and please let me know so I can correct it!   
> And seriously a big thank you to everyone engaging with this story, it really makes my day seeing people enjoying it and how excited some of you are for the next chapter to be posted. It really keeps me going, and appreciate all of you, whether you like, review, or just read along, thank you!   
> And finally, a quick question for any fellow writers out there! As I’ve been getting into my groove with this project I’ve noticed I write best with music on in the background, so my question for you is, what music do you like to listen to when you write? Any and all suggestions are welcome!


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